


let's get lost

by hot_damn_louis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Broody Derek Hale, Deucalion (Teen Wolf) is Not Blind, Gerard Argent is a piece of shit, Hospitalization, I'm taking heavy liberties with season 3a, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Not Canon Compliant, Scott is the worst friend ever, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, The Alpha Pack, Torture, scarred Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24502168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hot_damn_louis/pseuds/hot_damn_louis
Summary: Stiles was used to hiding things from those close to him. He hid his grief from his dad, his anger from Scott, and the deep sadness from everyone else. Somehow, he can't seem to hide anything from Derek, who is now acting more and more like a real person. Maybe even a friend. All Stiles wants is to feel normal, and Derek seems to be the most normal thing in his life.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 79
Kudos: 1268





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've basically taken canon through the conclusion of the kanima storyline and adjusted it so that they are all going into their senior year. Besides that, I'm kind of throwing it out the window besides some key points and characters. 
> 
> This is not finished as of posting this, so you will get chapters as I write them. Sorry in advance. 
> 
> Do you want a playlist for this fic? Lemme know in the comments below

The one thing about being in high school was that even after all they did to save the town, Stiles and Scott still had to go to class. 

For Stiles, this was one of the hardest things he had to cope with since Scott was bitten and they had fallen down the supernatural rabbit hole. He would spend every free moment reading about creatures in the beastiary, and then show up in school and have to remember all of the formulas to calculate the speed of a car moving down an angled slope. Reading The Scarlet Letter for English no longer seemed important when he knew that there were things like werewolves and kanimas. And the things that they had not even encountered yet! What if the next thing that moved into Beacon hills was a witch or a gypsy or a wraith? These were all things that were possible according to the beastiary, and Stiles was stuck in high school in government, trying to focus on the lecture about balancing power between the three branches. 

“Psst. Stiles. Do you get any of this?” Scott whispered loudly, tapping his pen on Stiles’ shoulder and trying to get his attention from behind him. 

Stiles, who had not been paying much attention having already memorized this years ago, just nodded his head. “Scotty, just take notes. I’ll let you copy my notebook after school.” He tried not to wince at the tapping of the pen on his shoulder, even though it caused a shudder of memory through him. He had to keep school separated from the werewolf side of him. 

“I’m hanging out with Allison after school today,” Scott said, reminding Stiles of their romantic reunion and his inevitable third wheeling. 

After Scott’s grand kanima plan, he and Allison were supposed to be done for good. But, after their summer of not-love, they had a talk and decided to get back together for their senior year of high school. Scott claims it was because he won her over, but Stiles is fairly confident that Allison is doing it to spite her father. Either way, the star crossed lovers were back together and attached at the hip, which left Stiles out of the equation. 

“Fine, I’ll text you a picture of the notes. Semantics!” Stiles whispered, trying to look like he was actively paying attention. 

As if saved by some grace, the final period bell rang, releasing all of the sleepy and bored teenagers from the hot room. After the hour of class, Stiles could not remember a single thing that had been talked about, but he had a notebook full of notes to prove that he was at least there. He followed Scott out blindly, moving through the sea of students all rushing to leave the school. 

He couldn’t help but feel lost. And he sort of hated that. It felt so teenager of him to feel lost and alone, but they were starting their senior year of high school and the aspects of his life that defined him the most had to be kept a secret. He couldn’t date anyone (not that anyone was lining up) because of this huge Werewolf secret that was looming over his shoulder. He would make friends outside of Scott, but then there would always be this double life he was living whenever wolf stuff became more important. Even now, within his research into all things supernatural, he found that he could potentially start training as an emissary or at the bare minimum, some light protection magic. All of these things made him an Other by normal standards. 

But he was still going to be an Other by werewolf standards. He was a human boy running around with his stupid best friend and his hunter girlfriend. Even Lydia was something special, but not the same kind of Other that Stiles was. She was still dating Jackson, and he was taking to Derek’s pack better than anyone thought he would. He was embodying his new werewolf self, and Lydia was right there in the thick of things. Stiles was still an Other to Derek’s pack, and would continue to be as long as things remained the way they were. 

And even after all the shit he’s been through, people couldn’t possibly view him as strong. They didn’t want to. But, dammit, he was a lot stronger than anyone thought. He had the scars to prove it. 

“Hey Scott, do you think I’m weird?” Stiles asked, looking up for his friend. When he looked around, Scott was nowhere in sight, having probably already bailed to meet Allison. “Great now I’m talking to myself.” Stiles paused. “And now I’m doing it again. I’m crazy.” 

“You can say that again,” Jackson said from behind him.

Stiles spun around to see Jackson and Lydia, walking down the hallway and pushing past him. “Lydia. Jackson. A pleasure, as always.” 

“Keep talking to yourself, Stilinski, and people really will think you’re crazy,” Jackson said, smirking as they walked by. His tone wasn’t malicious, though. Almost teasing. 

Lydia didn’t say anything. She just flipped her hair and smiled politely. Even after saving her and her boyfriend, it seemed as if Stiles still hadn’t quite earned her trust. 

“Crazy for you, Jackson!” Stiles called out after them. He winced at his own words, knowing he was being stupid. 

After all the kanima stuff, he was totally over Lydia. And over his hatred for Jackson. She had made her decision to love Jackson so clear that she saved him through magical love powers, and Jackson seemed to become a little more human around her. Hating anybody seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of monsters attacking. 

***

Saturday nights were for Stiles’ own personal research, now that Scott was wrapped up in the fantasy of dating whilst in high school. It wasn’t like Stiles had anyone else to talk to, or hang out with. Derek’s pack seemed to have their own thing going, and their own little secrets that they were holding. They whispered to each other and were clumped together whenever possible, and infiltrating their trio seemed to be nearly impossible. Even if hanging out with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd was appealing, there was still the issue that they were Derek’s pack. Which meant that they were off limits to Stiles, who was so distinctly aligned with Scott at the moment.

He was up to the letter F in the beastiary, which brought on a massive section about fae and fairies that Stiles had to sift through and analyze. As if any of this was going to be helpful in the long run. Scott was so determined to stay out of anything supernatural related, and Stiles wasn’t on speaking terms with the other teenage supernatural beings in town that he knew. This research was not only for his own personal wellbeing, but for others. If he was going to be the weak human that was tagging along for every fight, he had to know his stuff. 

He was waiting for his printer to print out a nice glossy drawing of a fairy, razor sharp teeth and all, when he heard a thump on the roof outside his window. Then, before he could react, Derek was pulling himself through the open window and into his room. 

Stiles spun towards him, seated in his desk chair. He wished that he was surprised in any way, but at this point nothing that Derek did would surprise him. “What’s up, chicken butt?” 

The expression on Derek’s face was priceless. He was both slightly taken aback and confused, which made his eyebrows do a little dance. It was kind of adorable, in a weird way. Stiles was going to pretend like his brain didn’t think that. Derek being adorable was going to be filed away under ‘Things that shouldn’t be mentioned again’. 

“I need your help,” Derek said gruffly, his voice quiet. 

“Asking for help? You’ve had some emotional growth in the past few months,” Stiles said, his hands clasping together in his lap. 

“Are you going to do it or not,” Derek said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“What kind of help? Because I have a very niche selection of things I can do,” Stiles said, gesturing towards the research piling up on his desk. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Research, genius.” 

“So the Alpha can be sarcastic, good to know,” Stiles said, turning towards his desk and pretending to take a note. At Derek’s extended silence, he looked back to him. “Research on what?” 

“Alpha packs.” 

“A pack? Of Alphas? That can happen?” Stiles asked incredulously. 

Derek rolled his eyes again. “Yes. Or I wouldn’t be asking. They are leaving vague threatening messages that I need to figure out.” 

“Are they actual messages or weird symbolic things, like leaving a dead cat on your front porch?” Stiles asked, turning towards his computer. He quickly booted it up, waiting for Derek’s response. He had not come across anything regarding Alpha packs when reading the beastiary alphabetically, but that information was probably categorized under werewolf, which was the largest chapter. 

“They keep leaving this,” Derek said, handing over a crumpled piece of paper. 

The image was a sketched triskele, much like Derek’s tattoo, except there were corners and sharper lines coming from the center triangle. It was sharp and dangerous in every way that Derek’s triskele was smooth and soft. 

“Does this mean anything to you?” Stiles asked, his fingers tracing the lines drawn onto the paper. 

“Packs will leave their symbol if they are trying to challenge another pack for land or power. I don’t know much more than that,” Derek said quietly. To Stiles, he sounded almost sad at this reveal of information. It seemed as if Derek’s guard was starting to slip a little bit and reveal a little bit more about him. Then again, Stiles didn’t want to read too much into it. 

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll let you know what’s what,” Stiles said, setting the paper down on his desk. 

Derek simply nodded and vaulted himself back out the window. The sound of his feet hitting the ground was barely audible, and he was gone. 

Stiles attempted to jump right into the research, but his hands paused. He looked back to where Derek was standing, trying not to imagine the way his soft hair was coiffed less rigidly, and the way his shoulders filled out his leather jacket. He was so undeniably attractive, and Stiles let himself live in that fantasy for a moment longer, imagining that Derek was still standing there. He couldn’t help but file that image away for later. 

***

Stiles woke up slowly, like he did most Sunday mornings. He had spent most of the night before researching Alpha packs, and the information was piled on his desk before he had crashed hard. He barely had time to strip down to his underwear and throw himself into bed before he fell asleep last night, and he was enjoying the feeling of waking up slowly in the sunshine. 

He sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes, only to open them and see Derek at his desk. 

“What the fuck?” Stiles asked, voice gravelly from sleep. “Why are you in my house?”

“Research,” Derek said simply, not even bothering to turn and look at Stiles. “Didn’t know you had that scar,” Derek added, his eyes flicking over to Stiles briefly. 

Confused, Stiles looked down at his chest. There was a thin silvery scar that went down his chest, from the base of his collarbone to nearly his solar plexus. Stiles traced a hand down it absently, letting out a breath. “That’s the kind of permanent thing that happens when Gerard Argent decides torturing you is worth his time. I’ve got some more on my back,” Stiles said, looking down at his own hands, trying to push down the memories that were surfacing. 

“Tortured?” Derek asked. The desk chair squeaked as Derek turned it, now facing Stiles. “Like Erica and Boyd?”

“It’s no big deal. Just got beat up pretty bad, mostly. He was moving on to round two when Chris came in and stopped him and let me go. Got an extra slap for demanding Erica and Boyd come with me, but Chris got us out of there before anything was permanent,” Stiles said, looking up to meet Derek’s gaze. He suddenly felt very vulnerable, sitting there in just his boxers. He didn’t want Derek to see him as weak. 

“They said you rescued them, but–” Derek cut himself off. He clenched and unclenched his fists, quietly releasing a breath. “I didn’t know he did that to you.” 

“Derek, no one does. Not even Scott. He was too wrapped up in Allison and the kanima situation that by the time he stopped to pay attention to me, it was irrelevant,” Stiles said, curling into himself, as if that was going to hide the scar on his chest. “Scott didn’t even notice the scar when we were changing in the locker rooms. You’re the first person to even really notice, which means that it’s not that big of a deal.” 

“It is a big deal,” Derek said quietly. Instead of saying more, he turned back to where the research was piled on the desk. “Get dressed and we can go over this.” 

Stiles complied, trying not to let Derek see how shaken he was over this interaction. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out some clothes for the day, excusing himself to the bathroom to change and relieve himself. 

The harsh lighting of the bathroom always made the scar on his chest seem more intense than it was. The cut was thin and shallow, and Stiles had applied a few butterfly bandages for safety but didn’t even bother going to the doctor. The ones on his back were more rough than even he could have anticipated. They were four lash marks from a whip. 

_ “Stop it! She’s passed out, she can’t even speak!” Stiles screamed, voice ringing in the closed off basement.  _

_ “Shut up, boy!” Gerard yelled, open hand slapping Stiles across the face. His face took the entire impact, his arms tied above his head keeping him in place. “You keep running your mouth about protecting these filthy dogs, and you’re going to get punished like them.”  _

_ “They’re teenagers. Kids. Not dogs,” Stiles said quietly, face tucked into his arm.  _

_ “What did you say?” Gerard spat, getting up into Stiles’ face.  _

_ “They’re kids,” Stiles said louder. “Not dogs.”  _

_ “That’s it,” Gerard said, rounding Stiles. For a moment, there was quiet. Then the whip cracked and struck Stiles’ back, searing pain exploding from where it hit. Again and again and again, four total strikes. Stiles couldn’t help but cry out in pain at each strike, his whole body shaking with fear.  _

Stiles shook himself of the memory, trying to forget. Those cuts were harder to clean and harder to take care of. He knew that they had scarred up, but he wasn’t brave enough to look at them. Having those scars– those memories– were just another reason why Stiles felt so out of place in high school now. He had lived an entirely different life. 

He had hidden his scars from the world. His father didn’t know. Neither did Scott. The only people who knew were Boyd and Erica, but he had avoided them since they had all been relieved from the horrors of the Argent basement. Not that any of them were eager to rehash the events again. 

He pulled on new underwear and jeans but quickly realized he had left his shirt on the top of his dresser. Even though Derek had already seen him shirtless, he didn’t want to walk back into the room that way, or have Derek’s eyes looking over his scars. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about the whole thing. 

He walked back into his room, turning to grab his shirt from where he had left it. He could feel Derek’s eyes on him, looking at his back where the other scars were. He pulled his shirt on quickly, wanting his skin covered as soon as possible. No one had said anything about them before, but then again, no one had ever talked to him when he was changing in the locker room. Scott hadn’t mentioned if his back looked marked up, but Scott was also extremely dense and unobservant. 

“What made those scars?” Derek asked, not looking up from what he was reading. 

“A whip,” Stiles said, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible. He rubbed his hands on the front of his jeans, palms sweating. He never felt nervous around Derek, but more unsettled. Right now, with his secret out and the most attractive man in Beacon Hills sitting in his bedroom, he was definitely feeling a little unsettled. In a weirdly good way. 

“Gerard Argent whipped you,” Derek said, his hands stilling from where he was leafing through the pages. He slowly dropped the pages, his hands tightening into fists, knuckles white. 

“Can we get to the research? Can I go over it?” Stiles asked, trying to move on. He really did not want to rehash the entire situation. Especially not with someone who was only using him for research, and probably couldn’t care less about him. 

“Stiles, you have to tell me if something like that happens. It’s my job to protect–” he cut himself off, pushing the research into a pile. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t, eyes sliding over to Stiles. “Explain the research.” 

Ignoring the weird behavior, Stiles launched into his spiel about Alpha packs, and what the beastiary was telling him. There wasn’t that much to go off of, but Stiles gave him some info about Alpha bonds and the ways that Alpha’s can bond to each other, showing him the examples of twin Alphas or an Alpha mated pair as ruling leaders of a pack. All of the info was pretty much useless, because if a pack was challenging another pack, then there was very little that Derek could do besides meet the challenge. 

“Any questions?” Stiles asked at the end of his long winded monologue. 

“No.” Derek looked at Stiles, his expression carefully blank, but his eyes boring into Stiles’. It was as if he was looking deep into his soul, trying to convey a message that Stiles couldn’t figure out. He wished that Derek could use his words and just talk, but this significant look was all he was going to get. 

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Stiles said, scratching the back of his neck. He was attempting to dispel the awkward energy, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. All this significant looking was not helping the feelings Stiles had for Derek. Or the way that his heart leapt into his throat. Derek had to be hearing the too fast beating of his heart. 

“If you’re hurt, I’m the first person you call,” Derek said sharply. He got up and moved back out through the window, leaving Stiles alone in his room. 

“Fucking Derek,” Stiles muttered. He got up and threw himself onto his bed, closing his eyes and hoping that he could somehow sleep a little bit longer. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wolves are training, and that might actually involve Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on a playlist right now, but until then check out the song "Let's Get Lost" by Beck and Bat For Lashes. It's kind of the inspiration for the whole fic. 
> 
> (Yes it's from the Eclipse soundtrack but I'm also a Twilight fan so get over it)

Things were quiet. Too quiet for Stiles’ liking. It had been nearly a week since Derek had asked for research, and yet nothing had happened.

Stiles didn’t want to jinx it. He knew that wondering about a new monster-of-the-week would only lead to one appearing, but he couldn’t help but fret. But worry. He was deeply concerned with the fact that nothing had tried to kill him recently, both human and nonhuman.

He couldn’t even enjoy pizza day during lunch. Everything was jostling for attention in his brain.

“Stiles, can’t you just enjoy the peace? We lived enough for a lifetime, and everything is calm. We get to live out senior year as starters on the lacrosse team, I have a hot girlfriend, and this whole werewolf business has calmed down,” Scott said, throwing his arm over Stiles’ shoulder, pulling him close and jostling him. None of his words were reassuring.

“That whole ‘werewolf business’ is kind of your life, Scott.”

He laughed it off, shoving Stiles away from him affectionately. “Not right now. Derek’s the Alpha, Peter is missing. The trio of misfits seem to be doing okay.” Scott pointed towards where Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were sitting at their own lunch table. “Can’t we just be normal teenagers?”

Stiles reached up and rubbed his chest, self consciously thinking of the scars hidden on his body. He wasn’t a normal teenager anymore. He couldn’t be. How could Scott pretend like his life hadn’t been a nightmare for the past year? How could he ignore the pain and death that has followed them around? He couldn’t be a teenager when he had experienced torture and had to watch his friends undergo the same. Nothing so banal as high school normalcy could occupy his mind.

“There’s nothing normal anymore,” Stiles said. This was useless. Arguing with Scott about this was like arguing with a brick wall.

“You weren’t even normal before all of this,” Jackson said, sitting down at their lunch table.

Lydia and Allison were behind him, whispering about something. They took a seat, Allison sliding towards Scott and immediately capturing his attention with a kiss.

“Cool, a good old fashioned lunch time double date! Featuring hopelessly pathetic Stiles,” Stiles said, gesturing to the others.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Don’t downgrade yourself. Act like you have confidence and eat lunch with us. We’re supposed to be your friends, remember?”

This was the same Lydia who had ignored him a week ago when she passed him in the hallway. He didn’t even think that Jackson would consider him to be a friend, or even an acquaintance. But here the pair were, sitting at their table and acting as if this was totally normal.

“Did you finish the Trig homework?” Allison asked, pulling papers out of her bag. “I totally didn’t and…”

Stiles let his brain fall out of focus. Allison continued on about her trig homework, getting help from Lydia and Jackson. They all were laughing about some inside joke, acting as if things were totally normal. As if Stiles wasn’t sitting there, worried about something more important than whether or not he got good grades. He was concerned about their lives and all he got in return was the accusations that he was too paranoid.

When the bell rang and they all slipped away to class, Stiles trailed after them. His entire afternoon slipped by, moving in a blur of classes and half-assed conversations. It wasn’t until he was home, throwing himself onto his bed, that he realized he had moved in a haze all afternoon. He felt out of place in his body, as if it wasn’t his own. He wanted to feel grounded or connected to something, anything. He was just a dust mite, floating through the world.

“What are you talking about?” Derek asked, his voice cutting through the haze that Stiles was in.

“Was I talking out loud?” Stiles asked, quickly sitting up. He wiped his face, looking over at where Derek was standing in front of his window.

“Just something about being a dust mite. Really, Stiles?” Derek said, quirking one eyebrow at him.

Stiles just waved a hand at him, as if elaborating through his gesture and not his words. “Sometimes you just feel small and useless.” Why was he telling Derek that? The words were out of his mouth before he could catch them. He had already spoken them, and they were already heard by the grumpy sourwolf. They were words that he had kept swallowed down, hidden away in his chest.

“You’re not useless,” Derek said simply, as if this was an indisputable fact.

“Sure. Say that next time a baddie comes into town and I end up getting hurt again,” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you have a purpose for showing up or did you just want to show off how good you are at glaring at people?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yes, I have a purpose.”

There was a pause. “And that is…?” Stiles asked, looking expectantly at Derek.

Derek dug in the pocket of his leather jacket, producing a crumpled photograph. It was of Peter and another man, both smiling at each other cheerfully. “I want you to find out everything you can about this man. Growing up we called him Duke, but I don’t know his full name. I know something happened to his pack, who used to live on the Southern Oregon coast.”

The photo was crumpled at the edges, but the faces were clear. It had to have been taken ten years ago, based off of how young Peter looked in the photograph. The other man had a grin that stretched across his face, looked handsome, and was clearly not a Hale, based on his blonde hair.

“Anything else I need to know?” Stiles asked, his brain already turning into research mode. He looked up at Derek, scanning his stupidly blank face.

Derek softened. “Try to worry less. It’s changing your scent.” He turned and moved back out the window, dropping down to the ground below.

“Always a pleasure doing business,” Stiles muttered, looking down at the photograph in his hand.

He didn’t want to jinx himself, but this felt like something. A mysterious photograph with a family friend of the Hale pack? An Alpha pack roaming around the edges? This felt like the senior year that Stiles was anticipating.

***

Somehow, Lydia Martin deciding that Stiles was worth her time was more surprising than Derek being a little nicer.

“Don’t look so shocked, Stiles. I’ve always respected you,” Lydia said, eyes looking at him sharply. “I don’t have the time for small talk and pretending like we are suddenly close friends. I just want to talk to someone who isn’t a werewolf for once,” Lydia added, her tone softening.

“I thought you had Allison for that,” Stiles pointed out.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “And get between the Allison and Scott love fest? She has cancelled on me three times this week, and I know that Scott is just as bad,” Lydia said, crossing her arms over her chest.

She was right. Scott had cancelled on him three times that week. Every time that he would attempt to make plans, or change the date of premade plans, Scott seemed to cancel in favor of another date with Allison. Or dinner with her family. Or dinner with both of their families. At this rate, they would be married by the end of the year.

“How do I know you’re not going to be ditching me for Jackson?” Stiles asked, stating the obvious. He really needed to have friends outside of these two couples.

“Because Jackson is getting werewolf chummy with the pack, and if there’s a training session, then he ditches me for those. So, the least we could do is meet up for training sessions. Have non-werewolf time,” Lydia said, shrugging her shoulders.

Stiles thought for a moment about what that would entail. Hanging around training sessions, seeing the werewolves in action. Maybe he could work on the protection spells in that one book, ward the train station so that it could become a safe haven. There was no harm in seeing what werewolf training was like, anyways. Maybe it included a shirtless Derek. Which he was definitely not attracted to, at all.

“Fine, I’m in. When’s the next training?”

That’s how Stiles found himself in the train station that afternoon, following Lydia down the rickety metal steps and into the large space. It looked pretty much the same as it always had, but the center of the space was cleared out for where they clearly trained. They had arrived a little after the werewolves, which meant that the beginning part of their training had already started.

They were working through a few simple sparring moves with each other. Derek supervised the two pairs as they worked through some grappling moves at half speed, feeling out the movements and practicing for muscle memory. Derek glanced up at Stiles when he came in, but didn’t say anything.

Stiles had not finished researching the photograph. It was proving harder to find this Duke guy than he originally anticipated. He scanned the photo in and did a search for the face through Google, but nothing came up. He lurked social media accounts and attempted to match it through something like a Facebook profile, but this guy was clearly off the grid. It was going to take a little more time to figure out who this guy was, and why Derek even really wanted him researched in the first place.

“Laps,” Derek called out, gesturing with his hand. The four betas broke away from each other and set off into the train station, weaving their way through the cars at a fast jogging pace. The station wasn’t that large, so they looped back fairly quickly, but Stiles had a feeling that it was more about agility than anything else.

Stiles and Lydia took a seat on the edge of some crates, watching as the betas looped around a few more times. “They really are training,” Stiles commented.

Lydia hummed in response, flicking her nails together. “Yes. I’m invited to these training sessions, but mostly I just sit here and watch them and wait for Jackson. It gets old after a while, being by yourself.”

“Don’t I know it,” Stiles muttered, leaning back on his hands.

Derek made his way over to the two of them, sauntering in the way that only Derek could pull off. His shirt was stretched too tight across his shoulders, and Stiles was trying really hard not to notice that. It was unfair, how attractive Derek was. He belonged on the cover of GQ magazine, not sitting around with a bunch of idiot teenagers and trying to wrangle a pack together.

“Stiles. What are you doing here.”

“Ah, Derek. Nice to see your sourwolf face again,” Stiles said smugly, giving him a fake smile.

“I invited him. Seems like he’s saved our asses enough that he should be pack,” Lydia said, pulling a nail file out of her purse. She began filing her nails, not looking up at Derek. “Plus, he was telling me about some protective spells he could do. Thought that might be of interest to you.”

“Protective spells?” Derek raised one eyebrow, his facial expression carrying more than his words ever could. He clearly was surprised at the mention of that, even if he was trying not to show it.

“I might not be a witch or have any sort of supernatural abilities, but Deaton once said I had a spark. It’s why I had success with the mountain ash that night at the club, and it’s why I think I could do this. Maybe I could do more to help,” Stiles said, looking up at Derek.

Derek looked between the two of them. Lydia was pretending not to notice him looking, but she stiffened her body. There was still a little bit of fear there, something that Lydia was trying to hide.

“Fine. After training, show me the protection spell.” Derek moved away from them, turning to address the betas.

Stiles watched as they ran through another half hour of sparring drills, and then fifteen minutes of actual combative sparring.

Derek had clearly attempted to match them up by physical ability and strength, but it was not panning out the way that he anticipated. Boyd and Jackson were clearly the two stronger betas, but they were not evenly matched. Jackson was fast, and would dart in and out with impressive blows. All the lacrosse training gave him faster footwork, and he could quickly spin out of an attack or force Boyd to the ground in a tackle. Even the hits that Boyd got in were not strategically placed. He kept attacking Jackson’s upper body, when clearly taking out his speed might be a better option. After several takedowns, with Jackson winning every time, Derek let them rest.

The other pair were no better. Erica was too fierce for her own good. She would lash out in crazy attacks, but would sabotage herself. One quick move from Isaac, and her wild attack would leave her sprawled on the ground, growling and causing her to lash out again. Isaac, on the other hand, was too afraid to hurt her. He clearly did not want to fight, based off of the way that he avoided her until she attacked him. Even then, he would only use defensive moves to get her away. After a few minutes with no takedowns, Derek let them rest.

“It’s pointless,” Stiles commented, gesturing to where the betas were drinking water and chatting off to one side.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “They need to learn combat.”

“Not when they aren’t learning anything,” Stiles said, looking over at Derek. “Jackson should be paired with Erica. He’s fast and strong, and she has tenacity and grit. They will be more evenly matched, even if they aren’t physically matched. Her lashing out against him will only cause him to do the same, and it can be a lesson in staying calm while fighting. When she spars Isaac, his calmness only makes her more angry.”

Derek looked at him as if he had three heads. Or a great idea. He couldn’t decipher between those two facial expressions yet.

“Isaac and Boyd are both more calm, but they both want to go more on the defensive. If they went against each other, they might be more open to trying offensive moves. As of right now, they can’t even squeeze an offensive move in through the onslaught from their partners,” Stiles added, gesturing to where the betas were sitting. “It’s not about strength and size, since they will have to fight creatures and werewolves of all sizes. It’s about honing their strengths and building up areas where they’re weak.”

There was a pause as Derek seemed to consider this.

“Training’s over. You’re dismissed,” Derek said loudly, not looking away from Stiles. Quietly, more for Stiles’ ears only, he said, “Where’s the protection spell.”

Stiles was mildly distracted by the intense eye contact and the way that Derek’s eyes were shining in the strange lighting of the train station. He glanced from Derek’s eyes to his lips and back, trying not to let his heart skip a beat.

“It’s here,” Stiles said, finally looking away. He pulled a book out of his backpack, a leatherbound one that Peter had gifted him before he disappeared entirely. He barely looked at it over the summer, knowing that Peter had given it to him. But, he decided to put that prejudice aside and just look at what kind of magic he could do.

“Where’d you get that?” Derek asked, snatching the book from Stiles’ hands. He turned it over, hands feeling the cover.

“Peter gave it to me before he left town,” Stiles said, shrugging.

Derek’s eyes flashed red. “It’s a book from our family library. I’m surprised he gave it to you.”

Stiles shrugged, glancing around at the train station. The betas had vacated quickly, including Lydia. The whole station was empty, their voices echoing without other noise to drown it out. “I don’t question crazy.”

Derek looked at him strangely. His eyes were soft but his mouth was hard set, as if he was holding his jaw tight in an effort not to say anything. He turned away, flipping through the book with practiced hands. His shoulders were tense, his head bowed so that Stiles couldn’t see anything revealing in his body language.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, reaching out as if moving to touch his shoulder. He had no idea why he thought that was a good idea, since it seemed to be a death wish to touch Derek without permission.

Derek snapped the book shut, turning to hand it back to Stiles. “You don’t seem to want Lydia anymore.”

“And? She’s with Jackson now,” Stiles said with a shrug. Where was Derek going with this line of inquiry? Typically he could care less about Stiles’ love life, and yet he was asking why he wasn’t trying to woo the girlfriend of one of his betas, and a fellow pack member.

“Besides, I’m not really interested in dating girls at all,” Stiles said quietly, hands running over the soft leather of the book. He had admitted it outloud. The fact that he was queer. That was not necessarily something he had ever thought he’d say, let alone say to Derek. And to make it even more strange, Derek was the first person that he had ever come out to.

There was a long pause. Derek wasn’t saying anything, or reacting in any sort of way. Which was bad. It was bad, right? It felt like his heart was in his throat, beating hard and fast and making him feel sick. He could feel his nerves jittery under his skin, ramped up by the fact that he had just said this important thing, had revealed an important fact that he was hiding, and there was minimal to no response.

“Well, I’m gonna–” Stiles started, shoving the book back into his backpack, trying to avoid looking at Derek at all.

“You don’t have to be so nervous,” Derek said, voice quiet. “I’m bi,” he added, almost so quiet that Stiles could barely hear it.

There was an immediate wash of relief over his whole body when Derek said that. It also made him strangely more nervous and cautious. Having a crush on a broody older guy was okay when he thought that said broody older guy would never look at him twice. But, knowing that this broody older guy also liked guys was strangely nerve wracking. Not that Stiles had any chance with him.

“Can’t control my nerves. Just happens. It’s like the weather, and I can’t control if and when I’m nervous,” Stiles said, continuing to pack up with less of a rush.

“Prepare things for the protection spell. I’ll let you know when you can use it,” Derek said. His tone of voice indicated a dismissal.

Stiles nodded and started to leave, climbing back up the stairs and out of the train station. At the top, he turned to look back one more time, only to catch Derek watching him.

There was something significant about that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack might actually be a real pack. Everyone might actually be getting along for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a playlist for y'all! I'm still adding to it slowly, as I find more songs that match the vibes of the playlist. The songs are in no particular order, so feel free to shuffle it and just listen to the vibes. Find the playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3v2nHx5SI3f68SuKvLigNn?si=Uozs8q4fSOmG_qlE1YzIWQ).
> 
> The title of this fic is basically from the song Let's Get Lost by Beck, and that's my main inspiration throughout for Stiles/Derek as they navigate what's happening. 
> 
> My current plan is for this to be 12 chapters total. We will see as I get closer to the end, but *shrug*

Attending training sessions became the new normal. 

As September slipped into October, Stiles had developed a new routine. After school, he would pile into the Jeep with some of the betas, the other half riding with Jackson and Lydia in the Porsche. They would head over to the train station, and the betas would practice their sparring and whatever sort of werewolf lesson that Derek had for them that day. 

The betas were getting stronger. They each were developing strengths in different areas, and they were getting better and better at their senses. They could track more efficiently now, with Lydia and Stiles playing bait for some of their tracking drills. Instead of dispersing after training sessions, they would sometimes go out for dinner or head over to someone else’s house, continuing to hang out until they had to go home. Even with Derek being grumpy and moody, he still would come out with them on occasion, especially if they were getting burgers. 

Hiding this new routine from Scott was surprisingly easy. They truly only saw each other at school, whether it was in the classes they shared or the few minutes that Scott could spare at lunch. Between Allison and working at the vet’s office, Scott didn’t have time for anyone, and certainly not for Stiles. He could easily hide what he was doing every afternoon because Scott couldn’t be bothered to make plans anymore. 

His dad had a few more questions. It was much harder to hide his new werewolf friends when he was inviting them over after training sessions for dinner and movies. The first two times that he had the whole pack over, the sheriff had looked at the teenagers filling his living room and rolled his eyes, claiming he had some paperwork to do. The third time everyone came over, and the first time that Derek had accompanied them, the sheriff pulled Stiles aside. 

“What’s with the new friends?” John asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Scott doesn’t come around anymore, but now you have these kids? I thought you hated Jackson. You accused Derek of murder.” 

“Falsely accused him! I didn’t have all the information when I said that. Also, I like Jackson. He’s the captain of the lacrosse team, remember? We’re teammates the second that lacrosse starts back up. These people are my friends,” Stiles said, crossing his arms to mirror his dad. 

It was times like these when hiding the big werewolf secret was hard. He wanted to tell his dad about pack, and how important that the connection between werewolves was. According to what he was reading in Derek’s family book, the connection between pack members would grow over time, and it would make them stronger when it was most important. He wanted to facilitate that, and having them over for bonding time was the most important thing. 

Even Derek was starting to come around. He wasn’t sneaking into Stiles’ bedroom as often, but he was distinctly non-threatening to the pack now. There were no punishments for doing things wrong, or angry snarling outbursts when someone stepped on his toes. He was starting to become a diplomatic leader, making sure that everyone felt safe and comfortable. Instead of sniping at everyone and glaring, he had even started to offer a gruff ‘good job’ to whichever beta had impressed him that training session. The first time he had offered a ‘good job’ to Isaac, the beta smiled from ear to ear and did not stop talking about it for another week after that. 

“What is he doing hanging out with a bunch of teenagers?” John asked, looking skeptically at Stiles. 

Shit. He didn’t really have an excuse for that. “He’s been helping Isaac after his dad died. They’re a part of the same trauma support group,” Stiles said. It was the best excuse he could think of on the fly. “He’s just trying to be a good person.”

John looked at him, scanning over his face as if trying to determine whether or not he was lying. He nodded, seeming to accept this excuse for now. “We’re still going to talk about this.”

“Of course,” Stiles said, nodding in return. He really did not want to discuss that topic any further. 

“What about Scott?” John asked, pointing out the obvious. 

Stiles ran his hand over his hair, which was starting to get too long to be manageable. “Scott has other things on his mind. He and Allison are still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. He keeps cancelling on me,” Stiles said with a shrug. He was trying to hide how much that actually hurt him. Scott, despite being annoying at times and making some suspicious decisions in the past, was still Stiles’ best friend. There was a lot of pain behind him cancelling all the time, even if Stiles was not willing to admit it. 

John looked over his son’s face. Stiles didn’t know what facial expression he had, but whatever his face was doing was enough to convince John that these new friends were okay. John sighed, letting his arms drop. “If you want, I’ll give you some cash to order pizza,” John said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “Clean up after yourselves and have everyone out by 9pm. It’s still a school night. I’ve got to go into the station and look over some evidence. There was a murder in the Preserve last week.” 

“A murder? In the Preserve?” Stiles asked, perking up. 

John sighed again, even deeper. “Do not go into the woods. Do you understand me? They think that the body was dumped there, but that does not mean that it is safe by any means. I shouldn’t even be telling you this much, since what happened last time,” John said, reaching out and placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Promise me you are going to stay out of those woods.” 

“I promise, dad,” Stiles said with a smile. 

***

“Remind me why we’re going into the Preserve again?” Stiles asked, trailing along behind Derek. He was trying to keep up, which was difficult between the dark and the fact that Stiles was not coordinated. He tripped over a few tree roots and fallen branches, trying not to flail his arms too much. 

“To check out where that body was dumped. I don’t think it’s an accident that someone had dumped a body a few hundred yards from my house,” Derek said, turning to glance at where Stiles had fallen behind. “Hurry up.” 

“My dad literally said yesterday that I was not supposed to go into the woods,” Stiles reminded him. “And he totally didn’t shoot you for being over, so I don’t want you to get on his bad side.” 

“I have to investigate,” Derek said, as if that was obvious. 

Stiles swatted away a branch, squinting as he tried to focus on where Derek was in the darkening woods. The sun had gone down a few minutes ago, and the woods were only getting darker and scarier by the minute.

“And why am I the one you brought along for this?” Stiles asked, taking a few bigger steps to catch up to him. 

Derek didn’t answer for a long time, walking ahead at a steady pace. “You’ve got a spark,” he said finally. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Stiles asked. 

“You have magic. Which means that you can sense magic,” Derek said, as if this was obvious. 

But, that wasn’t necessarily the case. Stiles had been working on the protection spell for Derek and the pack, but it wasn’t ready yet. There were some ingredients he was still waiting on in the mail. And, even then, that would only be to protect a space, not a specific person. His own personal spark was confusing, and he certainly wasn’t practiced in sensing magic. He could read spells and maybe be able to perform them, but he was not a witch or some sort of savant. 

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but Derek stopped suddenly, holding his arm up to stop Stiles too. He was keeping Stiles behind him, head turning to scan the forest quickly. 

“Three Alphas. This way,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles by the arm and yanking him roughly, pulling him off of the path and through the thick of the undergrowth. 

“Ow,” Stiles whined, trying to keep up with Derek was much as possible, his arm getting pulled roughly. There was no way that wasn’t going to bruise. 

They followed the trail through the woods, Derek stopping every few yards to sniff the air. The way he tilted his chin upwards and sniffed at the air made Stiles grin. He knew he hated the dog comparisons, but there was no doubt that Derek looked like a dog trying to sniff out other dogs. His eyes glowed red in the dark when he would turn to look at Stiles, checking him over to make sure he was still close. 

The trail led them to a small clearing near a creek, the leaves disturbed from both the Alphas and the subsequent police officers that had trampled through the area. There was still a piece of caution tape wrapped around a tree, the yellow standing out against the darkness of the trees. Stiles couldn’t help but focus on it, the way that it felt like a warning for the two of them. The woods weren’t safe, not for Stiles, at least not anymore. There was something uncomfortable about the whole scenario. 

“Should we be out here? Won’t the Alphas catch our scent and come after us for messing with their territory or something?” Stiles asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He watched as Derek moved around the clearing, looking for something that Stiles couldn’t see. 

At the suggestion of territory, Derek’s eyes flashed red. “The Preserve is Hale territory. They’re encroaching on my territory,” Derek growled, looking intensely at Stiles. He paused, as if catching himself. His eyes slowly returned to their normal color, his shoulders relaxing minutely. “It shouldn’t be an issue,” he added, kicking around some of the brush and leaves. 

Derek let his fingertips trail along some of the trees that surrounded the clearing. After a minute of looking around, he pulled a pocket knife out, flicking open the blade. He carved a triskele into the tree. It was crude, but it clearly was meant to represent the same triskele that was tattooed on his back, marking the tree with the Hale pack symbol. 

“Marking your territory?” Stiles asked, nodding towards the carving. 

“Something like that,” Derek said, shrugging. “Can’t hurt.” 

Silently, Derek started off into the woods again, moving a different direction than the one they came in. In the darkening Preserve, Stiles followed after him quickly, tripping on roots and underbrush in his hurry to keep up. 

“Where are we going now?” Stiles asked, staring at Derek’s back. He was not surprised when silence was the answer. 

It was only a few minutes before they reached the old shell of the Hale house. They were approaching it from the back, rather than the front. The back of the house was just as burnt as the front, but there was a pile of bricks from the collapsed fireplace and some random metal debris that had been piled together. The sight was strangely sad, and with every step that they got closer, the weight of the fire weighed on Stiles’ shoulders.

It was easy to forget what Derek had gone through. He had lost his whole family in one moment. Out of the two relatives that survived the fire, one had killed the other in cold blood. Of which Stiles had thought unburying her and accusing Derek of murdering her was a good idea. And then the crazy uncle had been killed, risen from the dead, and was now missing. The amount of heartache and grief that Derek must have experienced, must still be experiencing, is immense. Stiles was changed forever when his mother died, but he couldn’t imagine how much was changed when your entire family was gone. Nothing was left. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, tucking his hands into his pocket as he followed Derek through the clearing that surrounded the house. “Life has really fucked you up, and I have only made it worse. I’m sorry,” Stiles elaborated, watching the ground as he walked. This weak apology could not sum up the feelings that were in his heart. 

Derek stopped abruptly. “Are you apologizing for the fact that Kate burned my house down? Because that’s not something you should be apologizing for,” Derek said sharply, keeping his back to Stiles. 

“I dug up Laura and accused you of  _ murdering  _ her. I am a horrible person for doing that, and I’m sorry for any additional heartache. That was so wrong and  _ gross  _ of me,” Stiles said, balling his hands into fists in his pockets. 

“While that wasn’t ideal, you’re not horrible. And you’re forgiven,” Derek said. He waited a beat before continuing to walk, leading them back out of the woods and towards where Stiles had parked. 

They both remained silent for the rest of the walk, and for the entirety of Stiles driving home. Derek was a silent passenger, staring out of the window blankly. It was probably not a good idea to bring up his dead family at the sight of the burnt out shell of his old house, but there was so much that Stiles had screwed up in his life. He didn’t want Derek to keep thinking he was a heartless asshole who dug up dead bodies for fun. He wanted to be someone that Derek trusted, or at least respected. 

When Stiles had parked at his house, he looked over at Derek for the first time since they had gotten into the car. “I’m going to try and find that information about Duke. I’ve been unsuccessful, but I want to find it. I want something to go right,” Stiles said, gripping the steering wheel tight. 

“Trust yourself more,” Derek said ominously. He got out of the car and disappeared into the darkness, running off to wherever he was staying. Stiles watched him disappear around the corner of the block before getting out of the car and heading inside. 

***

“What’s the deal with you and McCall?” Jackson asked, sitting down at Stiles’ library table. 

Stiles looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re talking to me, voluntarily, in the library. Are you okay? Have you been hexed by a witch? You’re never this nice,” Stiles said, looking at him skeptically. 

“So? I can be nice if I want to,” Jackson said, huffing a little. “Don’t make me repeat myself again. What’s the deal with you and McCall?” 

“There’s no deal,” Stiles said with a shrug.

He was met with an incredulous look, as if Jackson did not believe a single word he said. “You’re not telling the truth. Werewolf senses, remember?” Jackson said, leaning forward on his forearms. He tapped his fingers on the table impatiently, as if waiting for an answer. 

“Did Lydia put you up to this?” Stiles asked, frowning. “Because I get that she’s trying to include me in your werewolf stuff, but it’s not really working that well.” 

Jackson rolled his eyes. “I want to know. Lydia is off doing something else. I doubt she even knows I’m here. Answer. Me.” 

“What’s there to say? Scott doesn’t have time for me, and could care less about being a werewolf. My best friend is picking a girl over me, and I never bothered making strong connections with anyone else. Is that enough of an answer for you?” Stiles said, getting more frustrated by this line of questioning. 

What else was he supposed to say? He hated the way that Scott made him feel nowadays. He always made him feel guilty, as if it was Stiles’ fault for them not hanging out more. He would ignore any mention of werewolves, and the scant minutes that they spent together during lunch were always taken up by Allison. If Scott could speak more than one sentence without mentioning Allison, it was a miracle. All of this made Stiles feel awful. He always had one trustworthy best friend, but now that person wasn’t really interested in holding up his end of the bargain. 

“McCall is a dick,” Jackson said simply. 

Stiles couldn’t help but agree. “Yeah, he kind of is. He’s done a lot of questionable stuff recently, and I don’t know what to think about that.” Stiles stopped for a moment to think who he was talking to. This was the same Jackson who had called him names and shoved him extra hard because he could. He shouldn’t feel this comfortable with him. 

But, there was a piece of information at the back of his brain. Something he had read in the old Hale book a long time ago. It was about pack bonds, and the ways that they functioned to alleviate strained relationships. Even when two pack members were arguing or fighting, the pack bond was so resoundingly peaceful and positive that it frequently allowed pack members to get along, even if it wasn’t perfect. 

Could that be what was happening here? Pack bonds allowing Jackson and Stiles to work through some of the anger and tension that has built up over the years. 

“You’re thinking too much, Stilinski. It’s annoying,” Jackson said, pulling a book out of his backpack. 

“Why aren’t you calling me weak and shoving me over, like you normally would?” Stiles asked, twirling a pencil through his fingers. “Shouldn’t you be ignoring me at least?”

There was a pause as Jackson flipped through his textbook, trying to land on the right page. “I never really hated you. At first, I was probably just an asshole middle school kid looking for someone to take his anger out on. You were an easy target, and you made yourself more unlikeable. And then you started liking Lydia, and you were super annoying. But you don’t like her anymore, so I think you’re fine,” Jackson said, shrugging. 

“How do you know I don’t like her anymore?” Stiles asked. 

“You stopped trying to impress her like you used to. Plus, I can smell you around her and it’s not her you’re interested in,” Jackson said, not bothering to look up from his book. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles asked.  _ It’s not her you’re interested in _ . Then Jackson must know about his crush on Derek? That was embarrassing, and not for the reasons one would think. Derek was a catch, and hot as hell. Stiles was embarrassed that he thought he could ever date Derek, as if they were compatible and mutually liked each other. 

“Derek. Or am I wrong about that one?” 

Panic. Immediate panic. How bad would it be if Stiles up and moved to Mexico right now? He was currently in Spanish 7-8 and could probably be able to live. He could ask where the bathroom was and conjugate irregular verbs on the fly. He knew how to make ‘I think’ statements. How does one say, ‘I think I’m having a heart attack’ in Spanish?  _ Creo que… _

Jackson snapped his fingers in front of Stiles’ face. “Stop freaking out and acting like a weirdo. I don’t think anyone else knows, and Derek’s too dense for his own good.”

“You can’t just say these kinds of things! I’m too young to have a heart attack,” Stiles said, pressing one hand against his chest. He could feel his heart thrumming under his ribcage, beating too quickly for just sitting down. How dare his own heart betray him. 

“Get back to studying,” Jackson said, rolling his eyes. 

“Aye aye, captain,” Stiles said, mock saluting him. 

It was almost a miracle that Jackson didn’t reach across the table and smack Stiles. Instead, he just huffed his displeasure and got back to his own studies. 

The whole pleasantries thing with Jackson was weird. He never thought it would come to this. He was being nice, and even kind, with all the Jackson sass to back it up. If they hadn’t been predisposed to disagree with each other, then he would have made a good friend. Even a good best friend. 

But Stiles would never admit that to Jackson. That would be too much.

***

The rain started coming down fast after school, and instead of going to training, everyone dashed off home. Derek had sent a text to their group chat (group chat!) saying that everyone should have a rest day and catch up on their studies. 

It meant that Stiles was going directly home after school for the first time in nearly a month. Between hangouts and training, Stiles was not used to being home in the afternoon. It felt like there was so much more time, which was vaguely daunting. He was liking the fact that his time was being filled up with the pack. Something had changed over the summer, and the months Stiles spent hanging out with Scott and playing video games, the pack was working on becoming a formidable force. 

There was a strange fear that Stiles had missed out on something important. 

When he got up to his room, he was surprised to see Derek sitting in his desk chair, hair dripping from the absolute onslaught of rain outside. Derek was flicking through the leather Hale book, fingers touching the pages carefully. 

“Did you run here or something?” Stiles asked, dropping his backpack down at the foot of his bed. He kicked his shoes off in the same direction, running a hand over his own slightly damp hair. Even the short walk from his car to the front door of his house was enough to get his clothes a little damp. 

“Car wouldn’t start this morning. I had it towed to get looked at,” Derek said, still looking through the pages of the book. 

Without asking, Stiles went to the bathroom to get Derek a towel. He tossed it at Derek’s head, forcing him to reach up and catch it. “Thanks,” Derek murmured, starting to towel dry off his hair. 

“Do you need a fresh shirt or anything?” Stiles asked, digging through his drawers. He pulled out a worn pajama shirt and some sweats for himself, planning to change out of his damp clothes. Even his socks were kind of wet, which meant that Derek was probably soaked to the bone. 

“I’m fine,” Derek said, wrapping the towel around his shoulders. He seemed absorbed in whatever chapter of the book he was looking at. 

Instead of arguing, Stiles pulled out another shirt and pair of sweats, trying to find ones that would fit on Derek’s frame. He wasn’t all that much taller than Stiles, but he had more bulk in his shoulders and legs. He dug around until he found a set that might fit Derek, and he tossed it at him. 

“Put that on. I don’t want you to catch a cold because you decided sitting around in wet clothes was a good idea,” Stiles said, starting to change. 

“Werewolves don’t get sick,” Derek said, not moving. 

“Fine. I won’t tell you what I found about that Duke guy until you change your clothes,” Stiles said, not afraid to leverage information over him. 

That seemed to stir Derek. He got up and started to strip, and Stiles politely turned away. Despite the fact that he really, really, wanted to watch Derek change, he was not going to be that creepy. Plus, his heartbeat would have given away the fact that he was attracted to Derek. Or the fact that he would smell like lust or horniness or whatever emotion werewolves could smell. 

“You can turn around now,” Derek said, voice too loud in Stiles’ room. 

Stiles turned around, pleased to see Derek in his clothes. It gave him a little jolt of satisfaction. Instead of saying anything, he pushed past Derek to his desk, pulling out a few pieces of paper he printed. 

“What’re these,” Derek said gruffly, taking the papers out of Stiles’ hands. 

“I used my dad’s login and a little bit of hacking to check police records for murders in small coastal towns in Southern Oregon. I figured that if something happened to his pack, there might have been a record of it with the police. After digging through a bunch of cases, I found something suspicious in the town of Gold Beach. They’re a fairly small town, population of just over 2,000. Typically conservative, with the population being mostly of retired people or home grown folks. 

“There was a case four years ago where a group had gone camping and was reported missing by one Deucalion Adino. The report claims he was close friends with the group but had stayed home due to food poisoning. When they found the others, they looked like they had been mauled by bears. I looked at the guy’s photo, just to see if he was the Duke you were talking about, and he was,” Stiles said, gesturing to the printed photo they had on file from when he went in to make a statement. 

Derek furrowed his brow. “That can’t be.”

“They took his statement regarding the situation, but the county sheriff ruled it as a freak animal attack. Deucalion moved shortly after, and there’s no record of him since,” Stiles said, gesturing towards the short written statement. 

“He murdered his whole pack?” Derek asked, looking up at Stiles. For the first time in a long time, there was actual fear in Derek’s eyes. 

“Looks like it. I have no idea why,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

Derek crossed the room and sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed, papers still in his hands. He was clutching them tightly, wrinkling the edges. “There’s… There’s an old legend. About Alpha packs. It was sort of a scary campfire story, or told to us when we were fighting too much. The legend says that there is a pack of wolves that consider themselves to be enforcers of werewolf law, and the pack is composed of the wisest Alphas. The only way to join the pack is to make the ultimate sacrifice of killing your betas, allowing you to have no ties and nothing to be partial to.” Derek looked up at Stiles, eyes wide with a vulnerability that was atypical of Derek. “If it’s real, then he is a cold blooded murderer. Duke was a family friend.” 

Not knowing what to say, Stiles sat next to Derek on his bed, sitting so that their knees touched. He didn’t know what Derek’s stance was on hugs, or if he even really wanted to hug Stiles. “I’m sorry,” Stiles said, knowing it was nowhere near enough. 

Derek sighed, his shoulders drooping. “Nothing to apologize for,” Derek mumbled, holding his face in his hands. He let himself be slumped over for a few moments before he straightened up, composure and a carefully curated blank look on his face. “Can you find out everything about the body found in the woods? The recent one? I want to know why the Alpha pack would do something like that specifically. I want to know why they’re challenging me.” 

“It might take a few days, but yeah I can,” Stiles said, making a mental note. 

“I think I might need that protection spell you’ve been working on,” Derek said, looking over to Stiles. He stood suddenly, as if he was ready to leap out the window. 

“Where are you going?” Stiles asked, getting up too. He grabbed the leather Hale book and flipped through, the runes of the protection spell now familiar to Stiles. “I can’t do this tonight. It’s going to take me all day to put these marks up at the train station. That place is too big,” Stiles said, reading through the instructions. 

This made Derek pause. He seemed torn between leaping out the window and going about whatever business he had or grabbing the book from Stiles’ hands to check it over himself. 

“Why don’t you stay? For a little bit at least. Relax and watch something with me,” Stiles said, feeling brave. “It’s pouring rain, I can’t do the protection spell tonight, and I certainly can’t research without talking to my dad first,” Stiles added, suddenly feeling sheepish. Derek probably had a million more things to do than hang out with him, but Stiles was asking anyways. 

After a few moments, Derek huffed. “Fine. I’ll sit and relax for one moment.” He climbed onto Stiles’ bed and sat there, body stiff as if he had never lounged on a bed before. 

Stiles rolled his eyes at him fondly, grabbing his laptop and sitting next to him. He tried not to think about the way that Derek’s thigh was pressed against his, or the way that Derek’s muscular frame felt nice to sit next to. He was definitely not thinking about any of those things. 

He put on  _ The Hangover _ , unsure if a mystery comedy was Derek’s thing. 

He could barely focus, with Derek next to him. It was a good thing that he had watched the movie a few times, because he was barely paying attention. He couldn’t believe that Derek would agree to sitting in bed with him, let alone watching a movie with him in  _ sweatpants _ that were Stiles’. This was like if all of Stiles’ domestic fantasies were coming to life. 

But he also had so many unanswered questions. Things he had taken for granted. For instance, how did the pack come together? At the end of last school year, Jackson was having a rough time transitioning from murder lizard to werewolf, Erica and Boyd were recovering from the torture that they had received, and Isaac was too afraid of Derek that he barely wanted to speak to him. Something had to have happened over the summer while Stiles was lazing around. 

He rubbed at his chest unconsciously, finger trailing along the scar from Gerard. He could almost feel it, even though the skin was mostly smooth by now. He at least pretended he could still feel it. It was the physical manifestation of everything that Stiles was hiding. 

He couldn’t wait any longer. He paused the movie, turning to look at Derek. “How did you convince Jackson to join the pack fully? Before summer he was a raging asshole, but now he’s being nice to me. Why?” 

For some reason, this line of questioning made Derek tense up, face pinched as if he was sitting on something uncomfortable. “He wanted to join. End of story.” 

“There has to be something more than that,” Stiles pushed, wanting to hear the actual truth. 

Derek seemed to consider Stiles for a moment, looking deeply into his eyes. The gaze was intense, and strangely emotional, even if they weren’t particularly discussing something emotional. He almost felt the need to cry, staring deeply into Derek’s eyes. They were hard, but also a little sorrowful. He had eyes that had lived a long and hard life. 

“It was something you said, after the kanima. I think you meant it as an insult, but I knew it was the truth. You said, ‘if this pack won’t become a pack, we’ll all be dead in a month’. I considered swallowing my pride and training, and I considered being dead. I chose the former,” Derek said, his voice quiet. He looked down and away, as if embarrassed by this admission. 

“So you truly showed some vulnerability, and that got Jackson to come around?” Stiles asked, almost touched by the notion. The thought of Derek showing his vulnerableness was almost sweet. 

“A good Alpha is kind and compassionate. That’s what my mom always said,” Derek said quietly, voice barely audible. “I showed Jackson I wanted to help, and he accepted.” 

Stiles didn’t say anything. This was progress from Derek. He was being emotionally mature and admitting that he could be personable and not just the growly Alpha that he put as his outer shell. Instead of pushing any further, Stiles hit play and let the movie roll. If he scooted a little closer to Derek, pressing his body against the length of Derek’s, then no one had to know but the two of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument with Scott and moving out of the train station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos so far. I'm seriously forever grateful for everyone! It makes writing so much more fun and satisfying to know that other also enjoy what I'm doing. 
> 
> If you didn't know, I made a playlist for the fic. Find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3v2nHx5SI3f68SuKvLigNn?si=9s7M07MpSqeq3UxNIpKgfg). 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The next day, after training, Derek followed Stiles out to his car and got into the passenger seat. “What are you doing?” Stiles asked, taking a minute to buckle his seat belt. 

“I need to use your laptop. Take me to your house,” Derek said, shifting against the seat. When Stiles didn’t start the car right away, Derek gave him an expectant look, raising his eyebrows. 

He started the car, trying to figure out what Derek’s motive was. This was starting to become a Thing. Him and Derek hanging out. But what kind of Thing was it? Were they becoming friends? A small part of Stiles, the part that was still hopeful, secretly wondered if this meant something more. He squashed that part down in the face of maintaining his outer composure. Now was not the time to have a freak out about his crush sitting in his car and inviting himself over to his house. 

“Fine,” Stiles said, pulling away from the train station. He drove through the streets carefully, tapping his fingers along to the quiet music coming out of his stereo. 

“Your stereo sucks,” Derek commented after a few minutes, reaching over and turning it off. 

“Hey! I was listening to that,” Stiles said, frowning. 

“It has high pitch feedback. It’s grating on my ears,” Derek growled, his teeth clenched. “Would you like it if I just screamed in your ear?” 

Stiles tried not to take that in a suggestive manner. It still made his heart race, for some weird reason. 

“I think I’ll pass, sourwolf,” Stiles said, pulling into his driveway. 

They got out of the car, Derek following behind Stiles, hovering way too close for comfort. He was breathing down Stiles’ neck as he unlocked his front door, nearly tripping up Stiles when he pushed through and walked inside. 

“Some personal space?” Stiles asked, taking a step away from Derek. “I know that you’re being all Alpha-protective-creepy, but I kind of need to be able to walk into my own house.” 

Derek backed off instantly, looking down at his feet. If Stiles could guess, he was slightly ashamed. His face immediately moved back to his neutral, blank expression. It was frustrating to see him do that, to close himself off so quickly when he had real emotions. 

“Why do you do that?” Stiles asked, walking towards the kitchen. He dropped his backpack at the bottom of the stairs, not bothering to look behind him to see if Derek was following. He knew Derek was going to follow him. 

“Do what.” 

Stiles waved his hand in a circular motion in front of his face, trying to communicate what he meant. “Your whole facial expression thing. Why do you put on a blank expression?”

Derek stilled. His shoulders tensed, and he clearly wasn’t prepared to be called out. His eyes darted to the door and back to Stiles, as if he was trying to determine whether or not running away was a good idea. His hands clenched into fists at his side, his knuckles whitening. 

“I know that you’re probably uncomfortable with emotions,” Stiles barrelled on, knowing that now might be his only chance to say this. “But, you don’t have to hide things around me. I thought we were closer than that.” 

There was no response from Derek. That was typical, almost expected. He wasn’t going to change overnight, and despite the fact that this past summer apparently had Derek growing as an Alpha, he clearly was still sensitive about being totally vulnerable. It was understandable. 

Stiles got out the ingredients for sandwiches, grabbing down two plates from the cabinet. He started to make up a sandwich for each of them, not bothering to ask Derek if he was hungry. He was a werewolf. They seemed to always be hungry. Plus, this gave Derek time to simmer and process whatever was going on inside of his head. 

“When you’re fighting for your life, being vulnerable means death.” Derek looked uncomfortable at his own words, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“But we aren’t fighting for our lives right now,” Stiles pointed out, gesturing with a knife. “I’m making us sandwiches, and you’re going to use my computer while I get some reading done for class. Then, if you want, we can watch another movie. Simple as that.” 

Derek looked constipated, his jaw tight and tense and his brow furrowed. He looked as if it pained him to be admitting any of this, or even be in the same room as this conversation. 

His expression let Stiles have a revelation. In all likelihood, Derek had never been to therapy for any of the shit that had happened to him over the past seven years. He was manipulated by a psychotic hunter at age 15, and his life only went downhill from there. Were there even supernatural therapists out there? Did he have anyone to talk to that wasn’t his creepy uncle, or a beta he was supposed to be strong for? 

“Look, Rome wasn’t built in a day. So I don’t expect you to start crying in front of me or anything, don’t worry. But, I’m offering to talk, if you want?” Stiles wanted to be as reassuring as possible. He actually, genuinely cared. He wanted Derek to get better. 

Instead of saying anything, Derek just nodded. 

“C’mon, sourwolf,” Stiles said, handing him both of their sandwich plates. Stiles grabbed his backpack and headed upstairs to his room. 

They ate in companionable silence, Derek tapping away at Stiles’ laptop doing whatever he was doing. Stiles got some of his reading done for English, working his way through the Scarlet Letter. 

He hated being that person, but he felt a kinship with Hester Prynne in a strange way. Not that Stiles had a secret love affair with a priest and a baby to prove it, or a symbol of shame sewn onto all of his clothes. In those ways, he was nothing like Hester, or like the story at all. 

But, he felt a strong connection to her conviction. She was hiding everything in her life; she hid her pain, and she hid the true identity of the father of her child. She hid how much fear she had in raising a child alone, and she was hiding it all from her own daughter. He felt like Hester because he was hiding things from everyone, and none of the things he was hiding were small. 

He was hiding his growing pain from his damaged relationship with Scott. He was hiding his scars from basically everyone, and thus hiding the fact that he was tortured by a crazy old man. He was hiding his crush from Derek. He was hiding  _ werewolves  _ from his dad, which was a secret so big that he didn’t even really understand how to approach it anymore. 

_ “You’re just a weak human. What makes you think standing up for these monsters is worth your time?” Gerard said, cackling like an evil villain.  _

_ “They’re people, just like you and me,” Stiles said, struggling against his bounds.  _

_ Gerard’s fist connected with his face sharply, punching him so hard that Stiles was seeing stars. He could feel his mouth swell, and could taste the faintest bit of blood from a cut on his lip. He wanted to strike back, but his hands were tied above his head, making any form of struggle impossible.  _

_ “They’re not people. They are monsters. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you’ll be on the right side of history,” Gerard said, hand coming up to grab Stiles’ chin.  _

_ “You racist fuck,” Stiles said, spitting on Gerard.  _

_ Gerard struck him again, his fist hitting Stiles’ eye. And again, he punched Stiles’ mouth, his lip splitting more, swelling up quickly.  _

Derek touched his knee, pulling him out of his own brain. “What’s up?” 

“Just some bad memories,” Stiles said, shaking his shoulders as if shaking the memories away from him. He felt sticky and hot, his skin crawling with the memory of Gerard’s fist striking against his face. 

“Want to talk about it?” Derek asked quietly, sitting on the edge of Stiles’ bed. He was clearly trying to be supportive, even if this was way out of his comfort zone. 

“I feel like Hester Prynne,” Stiles said, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

Derek just looked confused, brows pulling downwards. “Hester Prynne? From the Scarlet Letter?” 

Stiles nodded. “She has to hide all of these aspects of herself, and the public just wants to keep reminding her that she’s a bad person, but she’s not. She just hides everything, even when it hurts her.” Stiles dropped his head onto his knees, taking a deep breath. 

He had no idea why Derek was so easy to talk to. Maybe it was the way that Derek was quiet, not ever offering words until he was sure that Stiles was done talking. Or, maybe it was because Derek was a good person, and deep down Stiles knew that he could understand the things he was saying. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, catching his attention. “You’re not a bad person. If anyone says that to you, I’ll rip their throat out.” 

This made Stiles laugh, a full bodied laugh. “While I enjoy your protectiveness, I don’t want you to rip anyone’s throat out for me. At least, not right now, anyways. I’m just being overly emotional.” 

Derek huffed, as if he disagreed with the last statement. He didn’t say anything, but Stiles could tell he disapproved based on his grumpy expression. The fact that his expressions were getting easier to read was strange, but Stiles was enjoying the ease of figuring him out. 

“What did you need my computer for anyways?” Stiles asked. 

Derek stood and grabbed his laptop, pushing at Stiles so that they could sit side by side on his bed. On the screen were listings for properties in Beacon Hills. 

A few of them were more ridiculous listings, like a whole old warehouse or the abandoned cotton factory. But, Derek clicked through to a listing for an old industrial building with several floors and a loft space for living. It must have been some sort of factory at some point, but Stiles couldn’t tell for what. 

“Was thinking about finding a residence that wasn’t the train station. I’d like running water,” Derek said, clicking through the pictures that the realtor had put up. 

“And an almost derelict factory is better?” Stiles asked, pushing Derek’s hands out of the way so that he could click through the photos himself. 

“It’s not that large of a space. Only three floors, with the loft at the top. Thought I could renovate it,” Derek said, pointing to the pictures. 

“Renting out the loft space is not a bad idea,” Stiles murmured, looking at the photos. The big window was really nice, and there was a spiral staircase that led to the upper bedroom space. There would be a lot to fix, like the fact that the kitchen and laundry space was through a literal hole in the brick wall. And there seemed to be very little to make it a living space over a weird industrial space. 

“I would buy the whole building.”

Record scratch. Stiles looked at him, surprised at this declaration. The whole space? If you’re independently wealthy, then it’s not a bad investment. 

He clicked through the other photos, looking at the other two floors of the building. Both were wide open spaces, with some metal looking machinery left to rust. The elevator looked like a scary death trap, with the metal cage door being the only thing preventing them from tumbling right out of it. But, he could also see why there could be potential. 

“At least you could set up a proper training area. Maybe you could make your betas remove the metal machinery as a part of their training,” Stiles said, laughing at the thought of Jackson and Erica getting down and dirty with the rusty machinery. 

“Then I’m buying it,” Derek said simply. 

“Want to watch a movie to celebrate?” Stiles asked, rubbing his shoulder against Derek’s. 

***

Usually they all ate lunch together as a group. Stiles, Scott, Allison, Jackson, and Lydia. It was like something out of Stiles’ fantasy from like 4 months ago. He really always wanted a core group of friends, and somewhere deep down, he liked the idea that he was popular. Or popular adjacent. 

The other three betas usually ate lunch at a table by the windows or outside. If Boyd had borrowed a car that morning, the three of them would go off campus for lunch. Even if they weren’t really supposed to. 

Today, Stiles sat down at the usual table with his lunch tray, waiting for the usual group to show up. Jackson came first, tossing his backpack down and pulling out the homemade lunch he got every day. “No McCall?” Jackson asked, knowing that Scott usually came first to lunch. 

“Not yet, at least,” Stiles said, shrugging. Lunch was really the only time he saw his supposed best friend, and it seemed as if he wasn’t even going to get that time. It was disheartening. 

“Never really liked McCall anyways,” Jackson said, offering Stiles a carrot stick. 

Stiles took the carrot stick and munched on it nervously. “I know you hate Scott for some reason, but I just don’t get it. He’s fun and likeable,” Stiles said. 

“Fun and likeable?” Jackson said skeptically, making a face. “That idiot is incredibly selfish. He manipulates and uses people, but hides it behind smiles and compliments. He’s like an abusive boyfriend that you can’t stop running back to,” Jackson continued, gesturing around. 

Lydia walked over and joined them at the table, setting her iced coffee down and leaning into Jackson. “Where’s Allison and Scott?” 

Stiles shrugged. 

“I was just telling Stiles about McCall’s gaslighting and abusive tendencies,” Jackson said, offering a carrot to Lydia. 

She took the carrot from him and gestured around with it. “Scott is an asshole. I thought this was known.”

“How was this known? And that’s my best friend you’re talking about,” Stiles said, trying to feel outraged at anything they were saying. The truth was, they were right. Scott was an asshole. An asshole who cancels on him at any chance he gets, and truly only wants his attention when it’s convenient. 

It had been that way even before the whole werewolf thing. Scott and Stiles only became best friends through a partner project in middle school where Stiles, being the smart ass he was, was heavily disliked by the rest of his class. He would always raise his hand and correct the teacher, or anyone who was even the slightest bit wrong. Scott had offered to be his partner, and his friend, if Stiles did the whole project himself. So Stiles did the whole project himself, and the rest is history. 

“Are you just now realizing that your best friend is the worst?” Lydia asked, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. 

“I never liked McCall. You buddying up to him made it hard to like you, actually,” Jackson said, shrugging. 

This realization was overwhelming for Stiles. He was already doubting Scott, sure, but this was a new level. Lydia and Jackson admitting that they thought Stiles was an asshole by proxy because of Scott and his ways. Could Stiles have been cool this whole time? Was he being held back by Scott, and not the other way around?

“Are you saying that you would have been friends with me if I wasn’t so tight with Scott? Does everyone think that I suck because of him?” Stiles asked, looking down at his lunch tray. Suddenly, the mac and cheese seemed much less appetizing. 

“I can’t guarantee that we would have been friends, Stiles. But the second you stopped following Scott around and stopped pining after me as if it was your only salvation, you developed a personality. I kind of like personality-Stiles,” Lydia said. She tapped her fingernails on the table, as if biding her time while she was thinking. “There are a lot of people who think you’re cool, you’ve just always only had eyes for Scott.”

He had never thought of it like that before. He didn’t mean to be so singular, but finding new friends was hard. He was never sure if he was being himself, or some hyped up version of himself. And there was an intense anxiety about somehow screwing things up before they even got started. All Stiles wanted was to be liked, because he cared for his friends with a strong determination. 

“Thanks for telling me that,” Stiles said, not really sure what to do. 

“That’s what friends are for, Stiles,” Jackson said, kicking at his feet under the table. “Now, have you finished the math homework yet? I’m stuck on 12 and I wanted to compare answers.”

***

In the parking lot, after school, Stiles always waited around for the rest of the pack. Sometimes he would drive Erica, Boyd, or Isaac to training. Or any combination of the three. They had worked out a training schedule that was not nearly as demanding as their summer schedule, and now Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were the official Training days. 

Stiles leaned back against the hood of his Jeep, eyes scanning the crowd for any of the pack. He nodded to where Jackson and Lydia were headed to Jackson’s Porsche, and kept his eyes open for the other three. 

Somehow, in his efforts to locate his pack members, he didn’t notice Scott approaching him from the other school exit. He was so used to everyone coming from one exit that he forgot about the back exit on the other side of the parking lot. 

“Stiles,” Scott said, smiling brightly as if they had planned to meet up or something. 

“Hey,” Stiles said, not necessarily coldly, but definitely neutrally. He was attempting to convey his displeasure through his tone of voice, but in all likelihood, Scott wouldn’t get it. 

“Can I get a ride home? Allison has some dinner plans with her dad and is going straight home,” Scott said, leaning up against the Jeep beside Stiles. 

“I can’t. I’m going to training,” Stiles said honestly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Training?” Scott asked, clearly skeptical. “For what? Lacrosse doesn’t start until after winter break.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Pack training. I’m waiting for the others.”

“What pack? What are you talking about?” Scott asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. 

“I don’t know, Scott. Maybe if you paid any attention to what your supposed best friend was doing, you would know about training. You would know that we have a pack,  _ Derek’s  _ pack, and that we are trying to work together to grow and get stronger. And! If you knew anything about me, you would know that I’m trying to train too. I have a spark, and goddamnit, I am going to figure out how to use it,” Stiles said, exasperated. He couldn’t look at Scott, not without yelling or crying. 

“That’s ridiculous. Derek doesn’t have a pack,” Scott said, huffing as if Stiles was being ridiculous. “And if he did, why would you be a part of it? I don’t get it,” Scott added. 

“Excuse me?” Erica said, having approached the two of them. “Derk has a pack, and Stiles is very much a part of it, McCall.”

“Why are you even butting into our business, Erica? I’m trying to talk to Stiles, my best friend?” Scott said, pushing off the car and standing upright, getting into Erica’s space. 

Boyd and Isaac quickly approached, having clearly seen what was going on and hurrying over to the Jeep. They stood behind Erica, backing her up, posturing for a fight. They were acting like a real pack. 

“Get out of here, Scott. No, I’m not giving you a ride home. Are we even friends anymore? Because besides sitting next to each other for 20 minutes at lunch, we haven’t spoken in weeks. You don’t answer my texts, and any time I try and hang out with you, you blow me off to see Allison. When Allison is busy, you come running back as if everything is fine, but it’s totally not,” Stiles said, pointedly looking at Scott. 

“This is bullshit, Stiles. They’re just brainwashing you,” Scott said, looking nervously between Stiles and the others. “You’re throwing away our friendship for them?” 

“I’m not throwing anything away. When you decide that you want to actually be a good friend and recognize how you’ve been a bad one, then we can talk.” Stiles gestured to the betas. “Let’s get to training before Derek starts worrying about where we are.” 

They all piled into the Jeep, leaving Scott where he was standing. He looked shocked and hurt. While Stiles wanted to apologize, to try and smooth things over, he knew that this was better. He said his piece, and now it was Scott’s turn to try and make things work. It was Scott’s turn to put effort into their friendship. 

***

“Heard you and Scott got into it,” Lydia said, reading through the leather Hale book, not looking up at Stiles. 

Stiles glanced around at where the werewolves were still training, going through some of the newer attack moves that Derek was having them work through. He looked back down to the single tea candle on the table. He had been attempting to make it light it’s wick for the past few days, doing the simplest of tasks as far as magic goes. There had been very little success in the past, and the argument with Scott was not helping him focus. 

“Yeah, I fought with Scott. It was inevitable.”

“Was it?” Lydia questioned, jotting some notes down. 

“I think so. He wanted a ride home. He seemed surprised that we were training, or that I was even a part of Derek’s pack. I can’t believe he is so dense and out of the loop,” Stiles said, leaning back in his chair, giving up on the candle. 

“It’s not like he really gave a shit about any of us. He was very willing to throw all of us under the bus to poison Gerard and trick Derek. I don’t think he’s as good of a person as he thinks he is,” Lydia said, tapping her pencil absently. 

“I was supposed to be able to trust him. And for what? He drops me as soon as I’m not needed anymore,” Stiles said, crossing his arms. 

“You’re needed here, and that’s what matters. Pack needs each other, even if we can’t feel that the same way that the wolves can,” Lydia said. She jotted a few more notes down before passing the book to Stiles. 

“I’m done trying magic today, Lyds. I’ve been trying to get this candle to light for days now, and the most I’ve gotten is a little bit of smoke. I don’t think I have that much of a spark.” After a moment, Stiles’ curiosity got the best of him and he leaned forward to look at the page. 

There was a series of symbols and meanings spanning nearly three pages of the book, all with little written notes about their uses. It had the rune alphabet, but also the ways that each could be combined together in common practice. 

“Runes? Ancient viking magic?” Stiles asked, reading through their uses. 

“When you talk about protecting the pack, you keep saying protection spell, which can be useful. But the spell in this book is for more event base usage. A spell wears off eventually, and unless you put a lot of power into one, it will wear off sooner rather than later,” Lydia explained. 

“But, if I use runes to create a ward, it will last as long as I keep them strong and updated,” Stiles concluded, taking the cues from Lydia. He looked over the runes again, looking at the one labeled ‘protection’. Looking at the ways that runes are used, and what Stiles could possibly do with them, this appeared to be a much better solution. 

Stiles quickly read up as much as he could about the runes and how to use them, writing notes down as he went so that he could enable as much of this as possible. There were rules to how to use them and what sorts of materials to draw the runes on with. There was even an entire section about blessing a space with runes, but that was complicated magic that was meant more for witches than teenage sparks. 

“Whatcha got there,” Derek said over Stiles’ shoulder, looking at the work he was putting in. 

Stiles must have been absorbed into the research more than he thought. When he looked up, Lydia was packed and already waving goodbyes while climbing up the stairs. The rest of the pack was finished and drinking from water bottles, laughing and joking together. 

“You know how I said I was going to make a protection spell for your new place? Lydia informed me of these runes, which will make a much stronger protection ward. That combined with the herb magic I’ve been learning, and this pack will have a whole layer of safety security,” Stiles said, gesturing to the runes. 

“Come over tomorrow? I’ll text you the address,” Derek said, rapping his knuckles on the table next to Stiles. 

He watched Derek walk away, his shoulders and back muscles looking good in the tight white shirt he was wearing. Maybe Stiles was imaging it, but the triskele tattoo was visible through the tight white shirt. He couldn’t help but stare at him, at how hot Derek was. Thinking about how hot Derek was just made Stiles think about how nice Derek was, and how he had been learning and growing as a leader. 

“Go home, Stiles,” Derek called out, his voice echoing in the large station. 

“Yes, sourwolf,” Stiles called back, quickly gathering his stuff up. 

***

The new loft was imposing. 

Stiles stood at the front of the building, and when he looked up at the large window, he couldn’t help but feel that it was visually imposing. The building was old and run down, but it was a fixer upper. There was no wonder why Derek chose this place; he was kind of a fixer upper himself. 

The inside was no less imposing than the outside. The first floor was a huge open space with machinery littered about. There were exposed wooden beams and the wooden floors were not in the best shape, probably due to being ignored for at least the last 10 years. The elevator was even scarier, mostly since it was a service elevator with open grating, meaning the only thing separating Stiles from the elevator shaft was the little metal gate that clipped from one side to the other. 

He was lucky that the building was only 3 floors. The third floor opened up into a hallway space, with several open sliding doors. Stiles walked to the only door that didn’t look dusty or gross, the one that was closest to the elevator. He knocked first, as a precaution, before sliding the heavy metal door open. 

The loft was so much larger than the pictures made it out to be. It was scantily furnished, with a bed shoved in one corner and a worn leather couch sitting off to the side with a tv set, the middle of the room totally empty. There was a large table in front of the big window, with the sunlight shining directly onto it. 

“Derek?” Stiles called out, not wanting to step any further into the loft until he had confirmation that Derek was home. 

Derek appeared at the top of the spiral staircase, his feet making echo-y, clanging noises as he walked down the metal stairs. “You found it,” Derek said. 

“Your instructions were vague, and this place is imposing and scary as hell. And so much larger than I thought,” Stiles said, looking around at the high ceiling and exposed brick. 

“Get started on the wards,” Derek said, shoving at Stiles’ shoulder playfully. 

Stiles smiled back at him. Derek touched him playfully. As if they were close enough to just hang out like that, to show affection in any way. This was a major step in their relationship, and it made Stiles’ heart pound. 

His crush was not that bad. It was only mildly debilitating. And only when Derek was wearing a tight t-shirt, or doing something nice for a pack member, or biting his lip when he was concentrating. And sometimes Stiles got distracted when Derek would do pull ups, or run his hands through his hair and make it messy, or when he would smile at a joke that a pack member said. 

Okay, Stiles was distracted all the time. Being around Derek just wasn’t fair due to the fact that he was a model and totally adorable. He was a genuine person, and he always told the truth. He wasn’t sugar coating things for the sake of it. 

Following his instructions, Stiles got to work on the wards. They were simple enough to execute, but he had to do them correctly. 

He took out a compass and set it on the big table in front of the window. After determining which wall was facing north (luckily the wall with the front door was perfectly north), Stiles got out the chalk and the herb bundles. He drew a few quick runes in chalk at the base of the wall and then  _ believed _ , and the rune lit up for a moment. 

It worked! It actually worked! He had not tried it out yet, due to his fear of screwing it up royally, but it worked! He actually had a spark, which meant he had actual magic. He could be helpful to the pack instead of a total burden. 

“That was you?” Derek asked, gesturing to the rune. “Making it light up?”

Stiles grinned. “I’m totally magic.” 

“Totally a dork, more like,” Derek teased, a smile at the corner of his lips. 

“I’m the dork that figured out how to ward your new loft,” Stiles sassed, moving to the east wall. He found dead center and did the same thing, watching it light up with glee. When he finished repeating the other two walls, all four lit up at the same time, shining bright for only a few moments before sealing themselves into the wall. 

“It reminds me of the wards in my old house,” Derek said, looking around at them. “Our emissary would refresh them every few years and add new runes, depending on what we needed. I never saw her actually make them.” 

“Then I’m glad I’m doing them right,” Stiles said, dusting off his hands on his pants. “I have two herb bundles, one for under your bed and one for your dresser. They’re supposed to help you with day to day things, apparently.” Stiles held up the herb bundles, gesturing for Derek to take them. 

“Okay,” Derek said, sounding skeptical. He tossed one under the frame of his bed, and then proceeded to open up an actual trunk. Stiles didn’t even realize it was his wardrobe because it barely had anything in it. 

“Is that your clothes? In a trunk? Are you Harry Potter?” Stiles asked, completely surprised by this new information. 

Derek blushed. His cheeks looked cute tinged with pink. “It’s practical.”

“But you have no clothes. Do you just wear the same shirt over and over?” Stiles asked, barely able to wrap his mind around this entire concept. 

“There are things called washing machines, you know,” Derek said, closing the trunk with a loud  _ thud _ . 

Stiles reared his head back, laughing a little bit. “Are you sassing me, Derek? Because I am into it. Bring on the sass, sourwolf.” 

Derek smiled at him. His smile was like a thousand watts, so bright that it was almost blinding. Stiles could feel his heart flip in his chest, beating so fast that there was no way Derek didn’t notice. He probably could tell something was up, and the last thing that either of them needed was a weird conversation about how much of an idiot Stiles was for having a crush. 

“Well I’m gonna–” Stiles started. 

“I bought that popcorn you like,” Derek interrupted, gesturing to the hole in the wall where the makeshift kitchen and pantry was. “I bought the whole pack’s favorite snacks,” Derek added, ducking his head. 

“Awesome! It’s probably good we have a home base now,” Stiles said. 

“Want to stay and watch a movie? Since you’re already here,” Derek said quietly, looking sort of nervous. Or sick, Stiles couldn’t read his expressions perfectly. 

“Sure. I’ll pick something out? You grab snacks?” Stiles proposed, trying not to be too awkward about the whole thing. 

After looking at Derek’s meager DVD selection, Stiles chose  _ Inception _ . His movie collection was eclectic; he had a bunch of 2000s rom coms and some more recent action movies, and a few indie movies that Stiles hadn’t even heard of. 

They got settled on the worn leather couch, Derek handing Stiles a bowl of popcorn and keeping a package of black licorice for himself. They were sitting relatively close, but as the movie started, Derek slid a little bit closer. Their knees were touching, and slowly more and more of Derek’s shoulder was touching his. 

By the end of the movie they were pressed together from shoulder to ankle, but Stiles didn’t really want to think too hard about that. 

***

He normally didn’t grocery shop this late at night. If he went during the week, it was usually right after school so that he could pick up ingredients for his own dinner. If he went on the weekend, he tried to go early Sunday morning, even if it meant sacrificing sleeping in. 

Thing was, it was Wednesday and the fridge was pretty bare. He had skipped grocery shopping on the weekend to hang out with Derek and the rest of the pack, and his dad had been getting meals at work, so he hadn’t noticed how bad it was. But, this morning when he went to get himself some orange juice, he opened the fridge to realize it was pretty much empty outside of condiments and some old takeout his dad must have brought home. 

He went straight from training to the grocery store, but since it was getting later in the fall, the sun was setting much earlier than he anticipated. By the time he was done grabbing some essentials until the weekend, the sky had already turned dark. There were even storm clouds to accentuate the dark and gloomy atmosphere. 

“Fuck me,” Stiles said, fumbling with his keys as he juggled the bag of groceries in the other arm. He really did not want to drop the eggs. 

“Need some help with that?” an ominous voice asked. 

Stiles turned cautiously, only to see the face that he had been looking for all this time. Duke. Deucalion Adino. The Alpha that was a family friend, and close friends with Peter, who had also conveniently disappeared. 

Oh shit. An Alpha. Could he be a part of the Alpha pack that had been terrorizing Derek?

“You’re too smart for your own good,” Duke said, smirking at Stiles. He reached out and struck Stiles across the face, knocking him to the ground and knocking the groceries out of his hand. “That Alpha of yours is all brawn and no brains. Let’s see what happens when you take his brains away.” 

The last thing Stiles saw before passing out was Duke’s grinning face, looming over him. 

***

At the loft, Isaac and Derek were sitting down in front of the tv with their pizza, the open pizza box on the newly acquired coffee table. 

Derek couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He started feeling it a minute ago, but it suddenly spiked. He could feel his heart thrumming and his skin crawling, as if something bad was happening. 

“Are you okay?” Isaac asked, sensitive to his mood changes. “You just got really weird.”

There was a pause as Derek attempted to collect his thoughts. “Something is wrong. One of the pack members.” He felt his way through the pack bonds, trying to feel anything to give him a clue. He could feel Isaac’s anxiety; he could feel something with Erica and Boyd (they were probably making out or something); he could feel Jackson calm and controlled; he could feel Lydia and she felt normal. 

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, feeling the pain and misery and hurt that was coming from him. Their connection was even deeper than he had originally thought. He tried probing at the bond, but he got nothing in return. Something was seriously happening. 

He could practically hear Stiles’ cries of pain through the bond. 

“Isaac, call the others. Have Jackson find out if Stiles is home. I’ll call Stiles. Something is seriously wrong.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: I'm adding new tags to reflect the content that is coming up. The next chapter will have a trigger warning for content at the beginning of the chapter. I will make sure to include specifics with the next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Alphas are far too brave for their own good, but this could also prove to be a turning point for Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for getting this far! I really love and appreciate all of the comments and kudos I've gotten so far. It makes it so much easier to write knowing that I've got people who genuinely enjoy what I'm doing. 
> 
> I know I said it's going to be 12 chapters, but based off of the way the story is unfolding, it's looking like it could be more. Not that anyone is complaining. 
> 
> I made a playlist for this fic, if you didn't know. Find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3v2nHx5SI3f68SuKvLigNn?si=mIvcYtIaTT2gO1j0e2QKKw). Stiles and Carly Rae Jepsen are one in the same, and any Carly love song is essentially what Stiles thinks of Derek. Sorry not sorry. 
> 
> TW in end notes.

Stiles woke up slowly, as if coming off of anesthesia. He was consciously awake, but he felt groggy, as if he could not open his eyes to save his life. There was noise around him, but nothing distinct or particularly interesting. He became more and more aware of his surroundings as he became more conscious. There was something binding his hands and body, based off of the fact that there was a pressure around his wrists and it was hard to expand his chest for a full breath. There was something over his head too, like a bag or cloth. 

He opened his eyes, only to see some sort of dense fabric around him. It kept things dark, even though he could clearly see that there was light coming from somewhere. When he wiggled his body, it was more and more evident that he was tied to a chair. 

He was torn between screaming for help and staying completely silent. The bag over his head was alarming and claustrophobic, but screaming would bring attention to his captors that he was awake. If it really was Duke, and perhaps the Alpha pack, who had kidnapped him, there was no way he wanted them knowing he was awake. 

His options were torn away from him when the bag was ripped off of his head. It pulled at his face and ears as it was violently snatched, pulled off by someone standing behind him. It yanked his neck back, making him feel how sore he was. 

“Look at the poor little boy. What does it feel like to be all tied up?” a woman asked, her voice sultry and teasing. She did not sound familiar in the slightest. 

“It’s not that unfamiliar,” Stiles said, unsure of what sorts of games she was playing at. 

“Kinky,” she replied, long fingernails trailing along the back of his neck. “So you enjoy being tied up.”

“Actually, no. I do not enjoy it. You’re not my first kidnapper,” Stiles said. 

The way her fingernails trailed across his scalp made his skin crawl. He hated the way that she was touching him. It was predatory and gross and creepy. 

“You’ve been kidnapped before?” she said, surprise in her voice. 

“Surprised? Apparently when you’re vulnerable, people like to kidnap and torture you. Who knew?” Stiles said. He knew he was being a little too much of a smart ass for his own good, but honestly, kidnapped again? At this rate, he should just prepare to be kidnapped regularly. 

The woman rounded him, leaning down into his face. She had blazing red eyes and a smile that was pure evil. “Listen, you little twerp. I don’t need you mouthing off just because you’re confident. It’s my job to ruin people like you, and I am very good at my job.”

It was extremely tempting to spit in her face. If Stiles was confident, he probably would. But, he also enjoyed being alive, and he knew that doing anything to her would likely be a death wish. She looked like an extremely aggressive woman, and an Alpha to boot. 

“That’s enough, Kali,” an echoing voice came from across the room. 

It gave Stiles a chance to really look around at the large warehouse he was in. There was almost nothing else in the room outside of a card table and some folding chairs, which was placed just beside the far door. Standing in the far doorway was a man. As he approached, he was recognizably Duke, the man from the photo. 

“Let me rip his head off,” Kali growled, her fingers turning into claws quickly. She traced one of her claws down his cheek, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to cause pain. 

“We are keeping him intact,” Duke said. He had a soft British accent, as if at one point it was stronger but it had since faded with his time around American english. He was dressed casually but clean, his shirt fitted and his trousers pressed. Kali, in comparison, looked considerably more feral. Her hair was either unbrushed or teased up in the back, and she was not wearing shoes. It exposed the fact that she had claws on her feet as well. 

“Your a fucking party pooper, Duke,” Kali said, the claws on her feet clicking as she walked away. When she reached the card table she flipped it over, disappearing from the large room. 

“You must excuse Kali. She’s… used to a certain level of violence. Even now, she doesn’t understand that violence has a purpose and cannot be taken lightly,” Duke said, gently clasping his hands in front of him. 

“Why am I here?” Stiles said. He was cutting to the chase. The likelihood that Derek or his dad had figured out that he was missing was very low, and Stiles knew the statistics. He had about 24 hours before his possibility of making it out alive started plummeting. If someone wasn’t kidnapped by someone that they knew, than the kidnapper frequently had the intent to murder. 

“I can hear your heart thrumming in your chest. You’re scared, but not debilitatingly so. Why is that, Stiles?” Duke asked, stepping closer to him. He raised one of his hands and flicked his claws out, watching Stiles’ face. “You don’t seem to be afraid of me.”

That was sort of true, but there was no way that Stiles was going to correct him. He was not afraid of Alpha werewolves, but he was afraid of Duke. This was the man who decided kidnapping him was a good idea, even though he was the son of the sheriff and all. 

“Look, Duke, I am just an unimportant human. Why am I here?” Stiles asked, tugging on his ropes. They were tied on tight, with very little wiggle room. 

“You’re a lot more important than you think,” Duke said ominously, studying his own claws. He tested the sharpness of each point on his other hand, slowly dragging one of his claws on his arm to show that it was sharp enough to break skin. His accelerated werewolf healing meant that the cut disappeared almost instantly. This guy was a serious masochist. 

Stiles was trying to keep himself calm, but he couldn’t help the anxiety that was pushing at his skin. He really didn’t want to die. He had spent most of the past year trying not to die, and a lot of the past few months training in ways to keep himself alive for as long as possible. Now, all of his training was useless because he was tied to a chair in a warehouse, presumably surrounded by Alphas. 

“Derek Hale seems to not understand the message we are sending, so we need to send a more prominent one. I need you to remember a single sentence for me, can you do that?” Duke asked, leaning down so that they could see eye to eye. 

Stiles nodded quickly, keeping quiet. 

“Beacon Hills belongs to the Alpha pack now.” 

Before Stiles could say anything else, Duke reached out and backhanded him, his neck snapping hard from the force. He cried out, the sound ripped from his body with the force of the hit. He could feel his cheek already swelling up from the impact. Duke struck him again, knocking his head the other way. 

“Fuck,” Stiles said, both cheeks throbbing with pain. He could feel that the second hit split his lip, the blood coppery on his tongue. He licked at the cut, feeling that his lip was swelling quickly too. 

Duke used his claws to slice down the front of Stiles’ shirt, cutting through the rope that was binding his chest. Stiles took this opportunity to take a deep breath, his chest expanding. It caused his shirt to fall open, his chest bared to the Alpha. 

“What is this?” Duke asked, human fingers trailing along his scar. The feeling of his fingers on his skin was violating, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to push his hand away or twist so he couldn’t keep touching him. 

“I said this wasn’t my first time being kidnapped. It’s not my first time being tortured, either,” Stiles said quietly, trying not to flinch away from his touch. 

“Such a shame. A young talent like you getting battered and tortured for a bunch of werewolves that don’t deserve you,” Duke murmured, stepping back. 

“I’ve got matching whip scars on my back. I took a whipping to save my betas, my pack,” Stiles said, feeling braver than he should. He pushed his anxiety down and looked Duke in the eyes, his chest and scar in sight. “A hunter tried to send a message, and he was killed for it. My dad is the sheriff. I’m really a bad target.”

He couldn’t help but flinch when Duke rushed towards him, eyes burning red. “You sure do like to talk a lot.” Duke ran a singular claw down Stiles’ face, digging in hard enough to cut his cheek open. He then reared back and slashed one hand across Stiles’ chest, four matching claw marks moving diagonally through his existing scar. 

Stiles cried out in pain, hunching forward as much as the binds would allow him to. The searing pain was much worse than Gerard’s knife. These were jagged marks, his skin not sliding apart easily like with a knife. He could feel the blood dripping down onto his bare stomach, hot and wet. 

“This ought to show Hale a message,” Duke said, more for himself than for Stiles. He slapped Stiles hard once more, knocking him unconscious. 

***

For the record, Stiles hated waking up in places that he didn’t remember traveling to. 

As a kid, when they would take road trips as a family, Stiles would inevitably fall asleep at some point during the car ride. When he would wake up somewhere new, groggy and confused, he was a grumpy kid. It would ruin the rest of Stiles’ day, and he would be grumpy about the entire situation. It was just easier if Stiles had his pillow and knew what was happening. 

He woke up to the beeping of a heart monitor. 

“What the hell?” he said groggily looking around bleary eyed. 

He was in a hospital. Great. 

Beside him was his dad, slumped over and asleep in the chair next to his bed. The room was empty besides him, and it was way too hot. Stiles started to sit up and push his blankets off of him, but he felt mildly dizzy when sitting up. His sheets were tangled around his legs, one of which had a cast on it. (A cast?!). 

He let out a sound of frustration, the sheets tangled around the heavy plaster cast, and his head throbbing with whatever injuries he had. He wanted the bed to be propped up, but the remote to move the bed was somewhere out of reach. The last thing he remembered was getting slapped by Duke, and honestly he really wanted Derek. 

“Stiles?” John asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Thank god you’re awake,” he added, standing and grabbing his son in a hug. 

Stiles wrapped his arms around his dad’s torso, pressing his face against his stomach. He leaned into the contact, the hug feeling much better than he thought. Despite his posturing, being kidnapped by the Alpha pack was scary as all hell. 

“Hey dad,” Stiles said when they broke apart, leaning back on his arms. “Help me with the bed?” 

“Of course,” John said quickly, fumbling to grab the remote. He pressed the button to have the bed raise, the machine working slowly until it was propped up enough to have Stiles lay back. 

“What happened?” 

John sighed and sat down, rubbing his hands over his hair. He looked rattled, which was strange. He never looked rattled. 

“I was on shift when Derek found you outside of his loft. You were unconscious, and it looked like someone had beat you up pretty badly. They need to do some tests, but they are fairly confident you have a concussion. Your ankle is broken, both the tibia and fibula. They did surgery to put a plate in your ankle. You’ve got bruising all over your face. The most concerning thing was the three long slashes across your chest, almost as if a large cat had cut you,” John explained, voice getting louder and more agitated with each injury. 

“Do you know what the worst part is? They stripped you and found that you had scars on your chest and back. They asked me if I beat you, or if I knew where they came from, and I realized that I didn’t. Melissa said the ones on your back look like you got whipped! Stiles, what the hell is happening?” John said, his frustration and sadness and anger pouring out of him in these words. 

Stiles closed his eyes, trying to focus on everything his father just said. He needed to tell him something, but what? Everything that he was hiding from his father was interconnected. One thing involved the other, and it all hovered around this big werewolf secret. 

“Dad, it’s a lot,” Stiles said, tears welling up in his eyes. “There’s so much to tell you, but it’s not my place to tell. If I tell you anything, even the bits that are mine to tell, you’re going to have more questions and be mad at me.” 

Stiles blinked away the tears, reaching up to where they had started to fall down his face. He hated that this whole thing had become such an issue, and he hated lying to his dad. It wasn’t fair for either of them, and it wasn’t fair. 

“Just tell me one thing then, one small thing,” John said, grabbing Stiles’ hands in his own. 

There wasn’t just one small thing though. Everything was so interconnected that it wouldn’t be helpful. “Pick something you want to know,” Stiles said, closing his eyes against the brightness of the room. 

“The scars. Where did they come from?” John asked, his voice shaky. 

There was no point in lying anymore. “The night of the lacrosse game, when we won? I was kidnapped by Gerard Argent and tortured in his basement. I told you I had gotten beat up by some guys from the other team, but I didn’t tell you that he whipped me and cut my chest.”

There was silence for a moment. John let out a quiet sob, clutching his son’s hands tight. “Why would you hide something like that? I could arrest him, prosecute him,” John said, his voice thick. He sounded like he was going to cry, which was exactly what Stiles wanted to avoid. 

“Dad, Gerard is dead. It doesn’t matter,” Stiles said quietly, his eyes feeling heavy. “Derek took care of it.” 

“Derek?” John asked, surprised. 

Before Stiles could answer, Melissa walked in with a doctor. She took his blood pressure and temperature, and the doctor went over what happened. They gave him more pain medication, which made him sleepy, and John didn’t continue asking about Derek. 

***

When he woke again, his dad was not in the room. Instead, Derek was sitting in the only chair, his head lolled back in sleep. 

Stiles took this opportunity to stare at him openly. He never got to look at Derek, not for very long anyways. He could now look freely at his long neck and the scruff that decorated his cheeks. He had high cheekbones, brought out by the scruff underneath them. His eyelashes were dark and thick, something Stiles would have never noticed before. His hair lay limp, and he was wearing the same shirt from the last time that Stiles had seen him. He looked rumpled.

It brought up the question: how long had Stiles been in the hospital? How long had he been missing before he was dumped in front of Derek’s place? His entire interaction with Duke and Kali had to be 15 minutes, but where did the rest of the time go? 

Stiles attempted to sit up further, but his chest ached from the long gouged out claw marks. The bandage wrapped around his chest pulled when he moved, and he could feel the way that the claw marks were stitched up. He was going to have new scars, ones covering his old scar from Gerard. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

His ankle throbbed. His head throbbed. His chest throbbed. His wrists felt sore from where they were tied behind his back. His body felt as if he had been run over by a truck. 

“Stiles,” Derek said huskily, his voice soft from sleep. Derek leaned forward and placed his hand on Stiles’ bare arm, immediately starting to pull the pain away from him. 

It was a rush of relief, to not have his ankle and chest be sore. It wasn’t relieving the pain in his head as much, but Stiles had a feeling that it wasn’t going to go away quickly. 

“How long have I been in here?” Stiles asked, letting his head tip back and rest against his bed. He watched Derek, letting himself stare. 

“This is day two. But the Alphas had you overnight.”

So it had been three days since he went grocery shopping. It was both better and worse than he imagined. There must have been a lot of time where he was unconscious. That was probably why his head hurt so bad still. 

“Does my dad know? About werewolves?” Stiles asked.

Derek frowned. “I haven’t told him.”

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. He was still hiding that secret, but at least no one had made the decision to reveal it for him. He wanted control over that, if he could. It was one of the only things he could have control over in his life. 

“It was Duke. And some Alpha named Kali,” Stiles said, hand coming up to where Duke had clawed his chest. “Duke did all of the torturing. If I get kidnapped and tortured one more time, I think that makes me a pro,” Stiles added, trying to make light of the situation. 

Derek growled, leaning forward towards Stiles. “This is not funny. Do you know how you looked in front of the loft? You were just tossed there, and I wasn’t sure if you were dead or not. You looked so awful, and when I lifted you up, your foot was just swinging there. I was so scared for you, and–” Derek cut himself off, clenching his hands into fists. 

“But–” Stiles started, reaching to grab Derek’s hand. 

“You don’t get to joke about things like this,” Derek interrupted, grabbing both of Stiles’ hands. “I care about you. The pack cares about you. I don’t know what to do if I lost– if we lost you,” Derek added. He took a deep breath and looked at Stiles, his eyes scanning his face. 

“I care about you too, sourwolf,” Stiles said, grinning. 

Derek looked constipated, or uncomfortable. Or something similar. His face was getting easier to read, but as soon as Stiles felt as if he knew him, Derek would break out a new facial expression. This one was particularly pained, but not necessarily in a bad way. 

“Vitals check!” Melissa called as she walked into the room, eyes looking between the two of them. “Am I interrupting something?”

Derek’s face was back to his schooled neutral expression. “No. I’m going to get some water.” He left the room quickly, his cheeks slightly pink. 

“Melissa. I’m starving,” Stiles said, his stomach rumbling along with his head aching. 

“I’ll get you some food,” she said, lifting his arm up to wrap a blood pressure cuff around it. “Does Derek need food too? Since y’all are,” she waved her hand in a circle, as if to indicate something. 

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Stiles said, frowning. Did everyone know about his crush on Derek? Because that would be seriously embarrassing for Derek. Why would he want some gangly teenager crushing on him when he looked like  _ that _ ? 

Melissa looked at him with her motherly gaze. It was like she knew all his secrets. “I’ll get both of you something. He’s been here since he brought you in, so he must be hungry.” She typed in his vitals into his chart and walked back out of the room, leaving Stiles alone. 

Derek had waited for him? He knew that it was the Alpha’s job to protect pack, but he didn’t think it was his job to hold a candlelight vigil and wait for Stiles to wake up. Especially since it would be awkward with his dad. His dad might be accepting of their friendship, but he was still the murder suspect and generally scary older guy that was hanging around with a bunch of teenagers.

Stiles kind of liked his life when it was just him and Scott trying to make the lacrosse team. Now, it was filled with sappy crushes and trying to make sure his dad didn’t shoot any of his friends. Why did things have to go and be so complicated? Avril Lavine had the right idea. 

***

His dad had questions. He held them in his chest, his detective eyes looking at Stiles as if he was going to give away all of his secrets through his appearance. Thing is, Stiles was too used to hiding everything. He knew how to hide his pain, and he certainly knew how to act normal in front of his dad. 

Just as much as his dad was reading him, Stiles was reading his dad. He was looking him up and down, trying to predict his next moves so he could prepare in advance. He wanted to know what sorts of questions he had, and what sorts of follow up questions he had in regards to what he revealed about Gerard, what he said about Derek. He could see the curiosity in his father, but he could also see the way he was mulling it over before asking the right question. 

It wasn’t until the next night, and presumably Stiles’ last night in the hospital, that John started to ask questions. 

“Gerard whipped you. Tortured you. Why?” John asked, clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap. He was clearly angry, and likely feeling extremely hurt about every aspect of this conversation. 

There was no explanation that would satisfy his dad, not without revealing the big Secret. The whole Werewolf Secret, the one that Stiles had worked specifically to hide for so long. What could he really say? That Gerard had some sort of grudge against him? That he had stolen away three teenagers to torture in his basement, with electricity and knives and whips? 

“Because he doesn’t like who I am, who my friends are. He thinks that they– I– should be dead,” Stiles said quietly. He fiddled his fingers together, knowing that those words were not nearly enough. 

His dad was quiet. He looked tense, his shoulders practically in his ears. “You’re lying to me, Stiles. I don’t know why, but I really do not like it,” John said, voice sharp. 

“That’s the truth. None of that is a lie,” Stiles said quickly. “But, the larger thing– I can’t tell you the truth, not without revealing others secrets without permission. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to you. I’m caught in the middle,” Stiles said, not wanting to look at his dad anymore. He tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. 

There was a long stretch of silence. The room was so tense you could cut through it with a butter knife. This was the situation that Stiles was hoping to avoid entirely, if not stave off for a few years more. 

“You’re serious about this,” John said, staring intensely at his son. 

Stiles nodded. “This isn’t my place to say, Dad. I really can’t, not without asking those involved first.”

This seemed to be an unsatisfactory answer, but something in his expression or his voice had John leaning back in his chair, accepting the lame excuse. This excuse, like the ones before it, were nothing compared to what was coming. This was like a piece of duct tape holding together a bursting dam. The spillage of the secret was inevitable. 

“I am going to tell you as soon as I talk to Derek. It’s as much his secret as mine,” Stiles said eventually, hating the way that silence stretched between them. “He’s the only one who can really show you, anyways.”

“Are you… are you dating Derek Hale?” John asked, raising his eyebrows at his son. 

“No!” Stiles protested, shaking his head. “I can promise you that’s not the secret.”

John looked at him, his eyes boring into him. He gave Stiles a look, as if he could read his mind somehow. 

“He doesn’t like me like that,” Stiles said weakly, as if that was going to change anything. 

“But you like him?” John asked, reaching out and grabbing his son’s hand. 

All Stiles could do was nod, closing his eyes. 

“Don’t worry too much about it, kid,” John said, squeezing his hands. 

“It’s  _ embarrassing  _ dad,” Stiles groaned. “I’m just this skinny twerp and he’s,” Stiles made a variety of noises to describe Derek. 

“I don’t know what the deal is. Obviously you’ve been hiding more than I thought, but I really would not worry about it. Even if he’s not interested in you, he cares about you a lot. He was really torn up when he brought you in. Yelling and screaming about needing a doctor. He even stayed the entire time you were asleep!” John said, shaking his head a little. 

“Are you– Are you giving your blessing? If we were to date?” Stiles asked, extremely confused at this whole interaction. His father didn’t typically do things like this. 

John sighed deeply, looking at Stiles. “I don’t really approve, if it hypothetically were to happen. But he’s had a hard life, and despite all of that, he keeps trying to make himself better. He gives his whole heart to those he cares about, which sounds really familiar to me,” John said, winking at Stiles. “All I ever want is for you to be with someone who loves you as much as you love them. And I’m not talking about Derek here, I’m talking about in life. Whomever you end up marrying–” John grunted uncomfortably, “–I just want you to be happy.”

“No need to get sappy, dad,” Stiles said, squeezing his dad’s hands. 

“It’s scary to see you in this hospital bed. I just want you to know all the things that matter, because it reminded me how short life is. I’m not good at emotions, but I want you to know that I care and that all I want is your happiness,” John said, swallowing thickly. 

“I love you too, dad,” Stiles said, smiling. 

John patted Stiles’ shoulder. “Before I start crying or something, I’m going to get a coffee.” 

Stiles pretended as if he didn’t hear the sniffling coming from his dad as he walked out of the room. He also pretended like he didn’t wipe tears from his eyes at the thought of his dad’s willingness to be emotional with him. 

***

Somehow, despite only being in the hospital a few days, going home felt weird. It was as if Stiles had lived an entire life, and he was trying to return to the one where he was just a teenager again. 

That same creeping feeling of utter loneliness and his life being both worthless and wasted came back, rushing at him. He laid on his bed, looking up at his ceiling, wondering if he was ever going to feel normal again. Or at least some version of it. 

“You okay?” Derek asked, leaning over him. 

“When did you come into my room?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows at him. 

Derek shrugged. “A few minutes ago. You seemed busy, I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

“I think we have to tell my dad about werewolves.”

Derek was silent. The pause extended, and the longer it went on, the more awkward it got. Silences were not meant to remain that way. They were meant to be filled with words and sounds. 

“He keeps asking what secrets I’m hiding. I told him they weren’t my secrets to tell, and that I had to talk to you first. That seemed to be enough to keep him off of my back, but he’s going to want to know what’s happening,” Stiles said, folding his hands together on his stomach. 

“Are you sure?” Derek asked, his voice quiet. 

“I already told him about Gerard. About the torture,” Stiles said in a rush, his voice coming out quick. 

Derek sat on his bed, pushing his legs aside so that he had room. He took extra care moving Stiles’ broken leg, shifting it so that it still was in a comfortable position. “How do you feel about that?” 

“Derek? Asking about my feelings?” Stiles sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. “I feel weird. I feel guilty.”

“How do you feel now? About what happened to you, with the Alphas?” Derek asked, hand on Stiles’ leg. He started to pull pain, his veins turning black. 

“Do y’know what Duke said to me? He said you were all brawn and no brains, and he said ‘let’s see what happens when we take his brains away’. What does any of that mean?” Stiles asked. 

He was starting to feel sleepy, from the pain pulling. Which made him a little delirious, when combined with the heavy pain medications he was still taking. 

“And my dad asked if we were dating,” Stiles said, letting himself lay back down again. He closed his eyes, letting the rush of relief wash over him, his body aching much less with Derek’s help. “He was so cool about even the  _ possibility _ . Made me wonder,” Stiles yawned. 

He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the matter was inevitable. 

Derek didn’t leave straight away. He watched Stiles, the way that his face looked so young when he was slack jawed and asleep. He wanted to protect Stiles, this Stiles. The one that was vulnerable and caring. 

***

Stiles hated waking up to yelling. It happened quite a bit when he first became friends with Scott, and they would wake up to Scott’s dad screaming at Melissa. It happened a few times when Stiles’ dad had a rough case, and he would be yelling about one thing or another. 

The voices were distinct, loud. Then feet tore up the stairs, rushing towards Stiles’ room. 

“Stiles,” John said, bursting into his bedroom. 

Stiles hauled himself onto his elbows, struggling to sit up. He looked bleary eyed at his dad, confused at the terror and concern on his face. “What’s happening?” he asked sleepily. 

“Werewolves? You’ve been running with werewolves?” John asked, out of breath. 

All Stiles could do was blink blearily. 

“You– I– Derek told me–” John stuttered, hands coming up to grip his head. It was the least put together that Stiles had seen his dad in years. The last time he had been this bad was when they were in the hospital with his mom. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, pushing himself into a better seated position. “That’s true.”

“Why did you never tell me? I could’ve helped you,” John said, his voice a little desperate. 

Stiles shrugged. “Things were so dangerous that I didn’t want to wrap you up into it. And it really wasn’t my story to tell, and I didn’t want to betray Scott or Derek that way,” Stiles said. 

Derek appeared in the doorway, a neutrally blank expression on his face. Even then, Stiles could still see the concern and worry in his eyes. He didn’t know what exactly he was worried about, but it was there. 

“Stiles, you’re  _ hurt _ because of them. I can’t let you–”

“Can’t let me do what?” Stiles interrupted, feeling defensive of his friends, of his pack. “They need me, and I need them. I don’t care what happened to get me here, because without them, I would be dead.”

“You’re grounded, then. You can’t see them, I forbid it,” John said angrily, raising his voice. 

“I’m 18 in a few weeks. The moment I’m 18 then I move out and go right back to my pack. You can’t take me away from them. They’re my family,” Stiles retorted, flailing his arms. 

There was a heavy pause. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. The staredown between the Stilinksi’s was intense; Stiles was not wavering, and John was angry enough not to back down. 

Something must have changed, for John at least. He broke eye contact and looked away, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t really either, but pack takes care of pack, and I’m not throwing away the one thing that feels right and normal,” Stiles argued. 

John seemed confused at this notion, but that was no surprise. It had been just him and Stiles for a while, and before that it was him and Stiles and Claudia. Both of his parents were dead, and her family all lived in Poland besides her sister, who lived somewhere on the east coast. They didn’t talk, though, and he couldn’t talk to most of the Polish relatives because of the language barrier. A large family was a foreign concept for John. 

Without saying anything more, John turned and pushed out of the room, quickly moving past where Derek was lurking in the doorway. 

“That was intense,” Stiles said, relaxing back into his pillows. “And not exactly what I anticipated waking up to this morning,” Stiles added, giving Derek a look. 

Derek just shrugged, crossing into the room and taking a seat at the end of Stiles’ bed. “You said you wanted to tell him, so I did. Thought it might be better to leave you out of it, but I see that it was a bad idea.” 

“He reacted badly,” Stiles said, sighing. “I was trying to avoid an ultimatum with him, but it felt inevitable. Am I a shitty son for giving my own dad an ultimatum?”

“You’re not a shitty son,” Derek said. He placed his hand on Stiles’ leg, pulling the pain out. “You’re the strongest, most loyal, and best person I know. I don’t see how that could be shitty.” 

Stiles felt sleepy from Derek pulling his pain. The relief was overwhelming, and it made him want to curl up into a ball and sleep for the next few years. “Thanks. And thanks for the pain pull, I know it’s not easy for you either.”

Derek shrugged. “Figured I’d get a little in and get out of here before your dad tries to shoot me. I’ll let the pack know how you’re doing,” Derek said, patting Stiles’ leg. 

“You’re a really good person, Derek,” Stiles mumbled, turning his face into his pillow. He fell asleep shortly after, smushed into his bedding. 

Derek looked at him, watching as Stiles started to softly snore. He was such a fragile human, and yet he insisted on hanging out with wolves. He was so much older and more mature than people thought, and yet he was so innocent where he slept. It gave Derek some very conflicting feelings. He wanted to be around Stiles all the time, even when they argued, and yet he knew it was bad for him to get increasingly closer to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic depictions of torture. Includes interactions between torturer and main character, main character being bound to a chair, and continued graphic depictions of violence, similar to the flashbacks that have been occurring.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has shifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to everyone who's read so far! I really appreciate everything :) Every comment and kudos makes me smile, and I'm endlessly grateful for your support. 
> 
> Spotify playlist: here. I'm adding more songs today
> 
> My Tumblr: rain-or-clouds

“Fucking crutches,” Stiles muttered to himself, tossing them down on the ground. He hobbled on one foot around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for a sandwich. Suddenly, with only one working leg, everything was much harder. 

For the first few days after he was hurt, he got to stay home and relax. He had pack members dropping in with food and well wishes, which was nice. Especially the expensive sushi that Jackson brought him. That was really good. 

But, he had to go back to school, even with a broken leg. Hobbling around all day at school was no fun, and his armpits were starting to hurt. He was hungry after a hard day of people asking what happened, and having to crutch his way from classroom to classroom. 

Even in his own home, only one day into crutches, he was seriously annoyed. And tired. And increasingly frustrated as he had to balance on one leg to get his sandwich ready.

“Fucking mustard, why do you have to be so difficult,” Stiles muttered, trying to squeeze some onto the bread. The almost empty bottle was hard to shake and squeeze with one leg. Who knew. 

“Need some help with that?” Derek asked, appearing out of nowhere. 

“Ah!” Stiles exclaimed, jumping back. “You cannot sneak up on me. Why are you so damn stealthy?” 

Derek shrugged, pushing Stiles aside so that he could finish making up the sandwich. “Why are you not using your crutches? It’s supposed to be easier to move around with them, you know.”

“You try getting around in school with those. I never realized how far apart my classes were until I had to get from one side of the school to the other,” Stiles said, leaning against the counter. He watched Derek make up his sandwich, secretly super grateful that he could quickly finish it. His stomach was rumbling. 

“I had a cousin. She was human. Broke her leg and had to use crutches for two months. I remember how hard it was for her,” Derek said, keeping his eyes down. He focused on making the sandwich, as if he didn’t just reveal a piece of personal information. 

Stiles let himself openly stare at Derek. He watched the way he meticulously prepared the sandwich, shoulders hunched as he piled ingredients together. He watched the way that Derek smoothly moved through everything, eyes focused. He seemed to be purposefully ignoring where Stiles was standing, probably because of this revealing of information. 

“I didn’t know you had a cousin,” Stiles said, looking intently at Derek. 

“She was 10 at the time of the fire. Peter’s only kid. Her mom had died giving birth.” Derek shrugged, as if this wasn’t heavy information he was giving out. 

“So you had a big family,” Stiles prodded. If Derek was going to talk, Stiles wanted to listen. He wanted to know more about his family, about his life before everything went to shit. 

“Just the one cousin, but I had two other siblings besides Laura. An older brother, older than Laura, and a younger sister. My oldest brother was also human. He had just finished his bachelor’s degree and was accepted to a masters program for history. My little sister was 10, like my cousin,” Derek said, plating the sandwich. He pushed the plate towards Stiles on the counter. 

“I’m really sorry, Derek,” Stiles said quietly, reaching out as if to touch his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment, almost wary of touching him. He decided to anyway, laying his hand on his shoulder. He squeezed gently, trying to convey all of his care and support through that singular movement. 

Derek shook his head, as if shaking off the compliment. “I found an old book that Peter left behind, another magic book with spells. I figured we could go through it, figure out what you could do with it.” 

“Carry me upstairs?” Stiles asked, pouting just a little bit. 

“Carry yourself upstairs,”Derek said, snatching the plate with the sandwich. “I’ll carry everything else.”

Stiles scowled, hopping over to grab his crutches. “After all my complaining about the crutches, you’re still going to let me take forever to climb up the stairs?” 

“I’m not the one spending all his effort complaining instead of moving,” Derek retorted. 

“Sourwolf,” Stiles said under his breath, annoyed. He watched as Derek climbed the stairs with ease, all while looking incredible. Stiles slogged himself up the stairs, taking forever and ending up sweaty at the top. Not. Fair. 

***

The pack was all over him at the next training session. Luckily the loft had an elevator for him to ride up in. The train station only had the rickety old metal stairs, which were very unstable as is. The loft’s elevator was scary, but he could at least use his crutches to get in and out of it.

When he stepped out of the elevator, he was greeted with cheers as the pack opened the big rolling doors of the loft to greet him. 

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Jackson teased, ruffling the top of Stiles’ hair. He made sure to mess it up good, pushing at Stiles’ crutches. 

“Stop messing with him! I need to draw healing runes on his cast,” Lydia said, shoving at Jackson playfully. He grabbed at her, pulling her close to him, the two lovebirds clutching at each other. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Isaac said quietly, smiling. “Derek was really worried about you,” he whispered, winking at Stiles. 

“I can still hear you when you whisper,” Derek said, descending the spiral staircase. 

Boyd and Erica hung back, obviously eager to see Stiles, but hesitant all the same. The whole kidnap and torture aspect of the situation was all too familiar for the three of them.

Despite his cheer and the happy front that Stiles put up, he was massively messed up. He was having nightmares, more so than usual. He would have the occasional nightmare about Gerard all last summer, but he thought he was starting to get over that. Now, he was having nightmares where Duke and Gerard were working together, slicing him to pieces slowly.

“Erica, is that a new pushup bra or are you happy to see me?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. 

Erica blushed, rolling her eyes. “So glad you’re still in one piece, Stiles. And for your information, it is a new bra.”

“Same,” Boyd said, nodding at him. “I also got a new bra.” Boyd deadpanned. A man of many words. 

“Alright,” Derek called out, catching their attention. “I’ve hidden a t-shirt of Stiles’ in the warehouse downstairs. First person to bring it back gets to choose what takeout I’m ordering.” Derek gestured towards the door, and the betas went running out of it, shoving at each other and jeering. 

“I meant what I said about healing runes,” Lydia said, pulling Stiles towards the couch. 

Stiles crutched his way over and lifted his leg onto the couch, relaxing into the soft leather. “Go at it. Anything to help the aching in my leg. I can’t tell what’s worse, the pulling of the cuts on my chest, or the aching in my leg.”

“Are you sure it’s not the bruising on your face?” Derek asked, sitting on the coffee table across from him. Derek reached out and brushed his fingertips along Stiles’ cheekbone where it was still a sickly yellow, fading slowly. 

Stiles tried not to gasp at his touch, or do something ridiculous like profess his love. He couldn’t help but stare into Derek’s eyes, their gaze unwavering. He wished he had something to say, but for once, he was completely speechless. 

“Don’t let me interrupt anything,” Lydia muttered, pulling a thick sharpie out of her purse. “It’s not like I’m sitting here or anything.” 

They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer. Derek was the first to pull away, standing and looking between Lydia and Stiles. “I bought those pizza rolls you like. Want me to heat them up?” 

“And a soda?” Stiles asked, giving him a puppy dog look. 

“I’ll see what I have,” Derek said, waving him off flippantly. 

Stiles looked at Lydia where she was drawing an intricate set of runes on his ankle. She looked up at him, giving him a knowing look. She then pointedly gestured her head to where Derek had left the room. 

“ _What?_ ” Stiles mouthed, trying not to make a sound. 

“ _You together?_ ” Lydia mouthed back, making sure to stay quiet. 

Stiles shook his head aggressively, as if to signal specifically that they were _not_ at all.

Lydia sighed deeply in response. “ _You should be_ ,” she mouthed at him.

“All I have is Sprite, not that Mountain Dew crap you like,” Derek said, walking back into the room with a can. “And pizza rolls are in the oven.”

“My hero,” Stiles said, tilting his head back to look at Derek. He took the can from him, cracking it open and immediately gulping back a few sips. 

Lydia stifled a laugh. “Ridiculous,” she muttered, shaking her head. 

“I win!” Jackson yelled, tearing into the loft, holding Stiles’ t-shirt above his head. He tossed it onto the ground and did a little celebratory dance, looking smug as all hell. 

“I still think you cheated,” Erica grumbled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She pulled Boyd over to one of the soft leather armchairs, the two of them piling in. 

“It’s not cheating if he’s just plain better,” Isaac said, shrugging. He took the other armchair, slumping down into it. 

There was silence after that, Derek walking back to the makeshift kitchen to watch the oven. Lydia worked quietly on the runes, making sure that his cast was covered with enough runes to heal a decapitation. 

“Overkill?” Stiles asked, gesturing to his leg. 

“Not overkill, with the way that you are,” Lydia retorted. 

While they weren’t quite sure what Lydia was yet, magic wise, they knew she was _something_. She was immune to werewolf bites, and yet she didn’t seem to have the same spark that Stiles had. But now, as she used runes, Stiles could feel the click of magic as she finished the interlocking pieces. The healing runes had caused his leg to stop aching so much, and a tingly jolt went through his leg. 

“That seemed to work,” Stiles commented, looking surprised at his leg. “You’ve got to have some form of magic in you for that to work.” 

“Have you read about Wisewomen?” Derek called from the kitchen, making sure that the two humans could hear him. 

“What?” Stiles asked, more of a blank response than anything. 

“Wisewomen originate from the Dutch Witte Wieven, who were thought to be fairy women. They are often now what we would consider to be folk healers, or kitchen witches. Not enough magic to do spells, but enough magic to make _something_ happen. That’s what legend says,” Isaac said, sitting in the soft leather armchair. 

The entire pack turned to look at him, surprised. 

“What? I like reading historical legends,” Isaac said, blushing. 

Lydia shrugged, twirling a piece of hair on her finger. “My family has heavy Dutch and Scottish ties. I could ask my mom more about our origins.” 

Derek came out with two plates of pizza rolls, setting one down on the coffee table for the betas, and giving one to Stiles. He adjusted the way that Stiles was sitting, letting Derek sit between Stiles and the arm of the couch, even if it meant that they were pressed close together. 

“Anything about Wisewomen in your book?” Stiles asked, trying to focus on asking the question rather than the fact that he was touching Derek in front of the pack. 

Any sort of touching that they shared was usually done in private, when they were alone. Derek would simply nod at him in front of the pack, but clasp his shoulder or press their knees together once they were alone. There were many thoughts and late night ponderings dedicated to why Derek would be so different, and the only conclusion that Stiles could come up with was the fact that Derek didn’t want to appear weak in front of the pack. 

Yet here they were. 

“There should be something in the back, but I don’t know how accurate it was. We didn’t really encounter any when I was a kid,” Derek said, casually putting his arm across the back of the couch. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Stiles tried not to let his heart race away at this small thing, but he couldn’t help it. This was an entirely new situation that was occurring. Was it from yesterday, the revealing of personal stories? Did that tip the scales into this new zone? 

The thing was, Stiles really didn’t want to ask questions. He was going to enjoy every moment of this before Derek came to his senses and realized that Stiles was just some idiotic kid with a massive crush. It was only a matter of time before he changed his mind about all of this closeness and casual touching. 

Worst case scenario, Derek was starting to feel comfortable being himself again, and Stiles ruins it with his stupid crush. There was a big chance that Derek wasn't into him. Who knew if Stiles was even his type? He might be bi, but skinny, defenceless Stiles might not be what he was looking for. That was the worst case scenario. 

“Well, I’ve had a great time, but I’m supposed to bring Jackson over for a family dinner tonight. My older sister is in town, and, well, it’s going to be painfully awkward,” Lydia said, standing. She brushed her skirt down, looking over at where Jackson was standing. 

“I won and I don’t even get to choose takeout?” Jackson asked, crossing to Lydia. He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. 

She tugged at him, moving them towards the door. “Babe, I am not having dinner with my sister without you.” She gave him a signature Lydia look, one that showed she had control in this situation. 

Jackson merely sighed, following her towards the door. “See you tomorrow, losers,” Jackson said, smirking at all of them. 

The pair went out the big sliding door, leaving the trio of betas, Stiles, Derek, and a big empty spot on the couch where Lydia was sitting. 

No one made a move to fill the spot on the couch, which meant that Stiles and Derek were pressed together for seemingly no reason at this point. This made Stiles feel ultimately extremely self conscious, because there were implications if he moved. But the longer that they sat there, the weirder it would be. 

“Are we still getting takeout? I love pizza rolls, but I’m actually hungry,” Isaac asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Derek sighed and stood up, making the decision for Stiles. “I’ll go order Chinese,” Derek said, walking out of the room. 

Stiles ignored the looks he got from the betas. They were giving him the same questioning look that Lydia was giving him earlier, as if he somehow was making any sort of conscious decision to do anything in this situation. 

He had no control over Derek’s actions, and Derek sitting by him and touching him was not something he was going to pass up on. That was a fact. 

***

There was a level of fear in his daily routine now. Stiles tried to go about his business, as per usual, but he was always mildly afraid that the Alphas were going to come and kidnap him again. 

Derek texted him regularly to check in on him, only really wanting a response to affirm that yes, Stiles was alive and that no, he did not get kidnapped for a third time. Their exchanges were always short, but it was kind of nice to be looked after, even if it continued to instill fear. 

Stiles went about warding his own room, making sure that the protection runes were strong. Even though he didn’t get kidnapped from his own room, he wanted to be sure. He wanted as many locations to be safe as possible, and he felt as if he should be safe in his own room. 

There were really only a few options for figuring out the whole Alpha pack situation. Now that they sort of knew two of the members, Duke and Kali, it was a matter of figuring out a few key pieces of information. They needed to know: a) the rest of the members, b) what they were here for, c) why they had killed that guy in the preserve and d) what their next move was. 

None of these things were particularly easy facts to just happen upon. The pack had done a good job of hiding exactly who their members were until they had kidnapped Stiles, so that piece of information was going to wait. And without knowing who they were, it was hard to know what their next move was or their motivation for any of this. 

The guy in the preserve was information that could be obtained. At least, the police report could be obtained, which could possibly reveal key information about who and what they were dealing with. 

Normally, Stiles would use his dad’s login to access police records, but now that he had come clean about most of his secrets (no, he still wasn’t going to tell his dad about that time he shoplifted and got caught), Stiles felt mildly guilty about lying. It was one thing to add another lie on top of the pile that had accumulated, but to start the pile of lies again? That was not on his agenda. He was trying to be a good son. 

This meant that he had to ask his father for the police records. Which was not going to be easy, considering it was probably illegal to have Stiles snooping through records. 

But he had to ask anyway.

Stiles’ plan was to butter up his dad a little bit first, just to ensure that there would be no negative backlash from this whole situation. He made steak for dinner, with a loaded baked potato for the side. It was a hearty meal, much different than the healthy power bowls and salads that he had been forcing on his father. On top of that, he made a pie for desert, to seal the deal. 

Despite his better judgement, Stiles invited Derek over. Not that he was going to ruin the whole situation, but because it was not going to be easy to ask for the files to begin with. Asking for the files _and_ to let Derek see them, after they had a weird situation with the werewolf coming out story. Stiles inwardly cringed at the conversations that they were going to have. What were they even going to talk about over dinner?

“Your stress is making me nauseous,” Derek grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Your grumpiness is seriously putting a damper on my mood. Why the reverting back to grumpy sourwolf status?” Stiles asked, fussing over the potatoes, checking if they were baked through and through. 

“I don’t know, _Stiles_. I might be grumpy because you invited me for a steak dinner with your dad, after he was seriously not happy with the whole werewolf situation. And, I think your dad hates me,” Derek said, frowning even further, if that was possible. 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Stiles said, pulling the potatoes out of the oven. 

“That was a lie,” Derek grumbled, shifting his weight back and forth. 

“A half lie. I don’t know if he hates you, but if he did, he’d probably have said something to me by now. Besides, I think he might be coming around about the whole thing!” Stiles said cheerfully. 

That was only a partial truth. He seemed to be less angry about the whole situation, but he still had questions every time that they talked. He did not like hearing the story about holding Derek up in a pool for over an hour. ( _I can’t believe you’ve been friends with him for longer than you said_ ). Stiles didn’t really have any response to that except that he should be happy that he had a life saver for a son. 

“His cruiser just pulled up,” Derek said, nodding towards the steaks. 

“Great, I’ll put them on right now. They’ll be perfect when he’s ready to sit and eat,” Stiles said, his heart racing in his chest at the thought of any part of this night, and this impending conversation. 

“Try not to have a heart attack in the process,” Derek grumbled. 

“Can you get plates down? I prefer when you expend your pent up energy, rather than be grumpy,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes at Derek. 

“I’m home, Stiles! That smells delicious!” John said, walking through the house. He hung up his belt with his gun, striding into the kitchen. He stopped abruptly at the sight of Derek, who was getting plates and silverware with a familiarity that was unexpected. “I didn’t realize we were having a guest tonight,” John said, raising his eyebrows at Stiles. 

“Figured that with everything going on, a nice steak dinner was well deserved,” Stiles said, collecting the dishes from Derek. 

John looked between the two of them, his eyes narrowing. He watched them float through the kitchen silently, Derek helping Stiles by getting out the butter and silently holding him steady when he threatened to tip over on his crutches. 

“This dinner isn’t to butter me up because you two are dating, is it?” John asked, sounding vaguely skeptical. “I know I said I wanted you to be happy, but–”

Stiles blushed heavily. He turned to Derek, slightly surprised to see him blushing too. “Dad, no,” Stiles said quickly, trying to diffuse the situation. 

“Then why the steak? That’s a bribe if I’ve ever seen one,” John said, gesturing to the stovetop. 

“I wanted to ask you for a favor– we wanted to ask– but I figured that you might not say yes. So this is me wanting you to say yes,” Stiles said, watching the steaks carefully so he could pull them off the heat in time. 

“What kind of favor?” John asked, looking between them. 

“Looking at police case records kind of favor?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows hopefully. 

John sighed. At this point in his life, his son couldn’t surprise him. It was purely the things he thought were possible and appropriate were wildly off base and frustrating. There was no way that John could let him peruse police files just because he asked. 

“Why?” John asked, looking between the two of them.

“You know the Alpha pack I was telling you about? They killed that guy, and we need to know more about him to see if there was a particular reason behind it,” Stiles said, handing a done up plate to Derek. “Food’s done. Can we move to the table?”

Derek grabbed two plates, and John grabbed the third, his own. They all moved into the dining room in an awkward silence. The movement between rooms allowed John a moment to think about what was happening, and about whether or not he was going to let Stiles look through his case files. 

“I really cannot let you look at case files,” John said, tucking into his food. He watched both Derek and Stiles across from him, the way that they sat too close together. His eyes narrowed, watching the two of them eat side by side. Based on the way they were sitting, Derek’s hand was somewhere in Stiles’ lap. 

“I’ve done it before,” Stiles argued, despite the fact that it wasn’t a good argument. 

“Really,” John deadpanned. “That’s a good reason to let you do it again?”

“If I may, sir,” Derek said, clearing his throat. “It would be beneficial to our research into this group. If they are willing to kidnap Stiles and hurt him, then I need to get to the bottom of this before something worse happens.” Derek looked at Stiles, his eyes scanning his face. 

Stiles couldn’t help but stare up into Derek’s eyes, realizing now how close they were. He was far too beautiful to sit this close to without having heart-flipping feelings. The pain pulling wasn’t making this any better, either. Derek had noticed Stiles smashing his cast into the wall as they walked out of the kitchen, and he had immediately started pulling pain the second they sat down. It made Stiles feel a little woozy and far too relaxed. 

“Fine. Ten minutes after dinner, that’s it,” John said, looking between the two of them. He continued to tuck into his steak, letting silence come over them. 

The only sounds in the room were the clinking of forks on plates and the awkward sound of chewing as they all started eating their food earnestly. Derek wolfed at his food quickly. Sometimes Stiles forgot how infrequently Derek had a home cooked meal. 

“Do you have a job, Derek?” John asked out of the blue. 

Derek stopped chewing, swallowing his food quickly. “Not a permanent one, no. But I have my own construction company. It’s been hard to work here without a truck,” Derek said. 

This information was news. Now all Stiles could think about was Derek in tight white tank tops hammering boards together. This was too good of a mental image to have. 

“Why don’t you have a truck?” John asked pointedly. 

“My sister took my truck to move back here, and when Peter killed her, he did something with my truck. My current car is my sisters,” Derek said, stilling. 

That explained a lot. It explained why Derek was so protective over the Camaro, and why he was sensitive about anyone asking to drive it. It was much like Stiles with the Jeep; it had belonged to his mother, and there was no way he was going to let anything happen to it. 

Under the table, Stiles placed his hand on top of Derek’s where it was pain pulling. He squeezed his fingers, trying to be as reassuring as possible in this small gesture. 

John looked vaguely uncomfortable at this turn of events in his line of questioning. He continued to eat, letting the awkward silence wash over the table. There was no line of questioning worth dragging up Derek’s history, as tragic as it was. 

The meal was probably the second most awkward one that Stiles had ever eaten. The first was the meal Stiles had shortly after Scott’s dad left, where Melissa cried half of the time. As an 11 year old, Stiles did not have the mental capacity to realize that Melissa needed comfort, not two tween boys jostling each other at the dinner table. 

When the meal was finished, Derek politely collected the plates, taking them into the kitchen. 

“I better go help him,” Stiles said, grabbing his crutches so that he could escape the knowing gaze of his father. 

“Stiles,” John said sternly, catching his attention. 

Stiles froze, not moving. He knew that if he looked at his dad, his face might give away more than he wanted to, for many different reasons. There was a lot of emotion and grief tied between the two of them, and today was not the day for emotional conversations. 

“I want you to be happy. Even if that happiness is in an older werewolf,” John said pointedly, giving Stiles a very knowing look. 

“Dad, he can hear you,” Stiles hissed, looking between his father and the doorway to the kitchen. 

John smiled, nodding his head. “I’ll get the files. Ten minutes.” He walked out of the room smugly. 

***

Honestly, there was not a lot of information in the files that was helpful to their investigation of the Alpha pack. 

Miles Burton was a man visiting from out of town who had no close relatives. He was checked in at a motel one town over, and had gotten wind of good hiking within the preserve. He was staying in the next town over at some bed and breakfast for a vacation, by himself. 

He was killed by teeth marks in his throat, ripping out his jugular. He was scratched up all over, like he had been mauled by a large cat or bear. Or a wolf. 

The fact that the Alphas killed him and then de-escalated the situation to vague threats was strange. It was not the way that psychological behavior usually worked, which meant that the killing might be outside of the pattern. It might not have been planned, or it was planned and a different operation to the threatening of Derek. 

“Not helpful,” Derek muttered, tapping a pen against his chin. He was sitting, sprawled in Stiles’ desk chair, looking over his own notes on the case. 

“How am I supposed to know why they would do that? There’s something missing in this puzzle, and it’s infuriating to figure out,” Stiles grumbled, propping his broken leg up in his bed. 

The night was winding down, and despite his father’s weird acceptance of everything that was happening, Stiles was still too keyed up and stressed out. It wasn’t because of his father, but because he didn’t want to fall asleep. 

Despite what people would assume, Stiles didn’t really dream. Not regularly, anyways, and even as a kid he could not remember dreaming. Recently, every night he was dreaming. All through the summer he would dream of Gerard, but now he had new things to add to the mix.

The dreams ranged from unpleasant to extremely nightmarish, and it was a toss up of what he was going to get. If he had a mild dream, he might have some sort of interaction with Duke or Gerard. If it was more intense, he would relive his torture, or worse, watch his pack get tortured alongside him. There was one memorable dream where he watched Derek get ripped limb to limb, and he woke up in a cold sweat. 

He could already feel the stress of falling asleep coming onto his shoulders. It was only a matter of hours before he would be subjected to everything he never wanted. 

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, setting down his papers. When Stiles didn’t respond, he stood and walked over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. “Stiles?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles murmured, tossing an arm over his eyes, trying to slow his breathing. 

“You’re not.” 

“Okay, fine, I’m not,” Stiles said, wanting to hide his face from Derek. “I don’t want to talk about it. Only makes it more real,” Stiles added, mumbling into his arms. 

Derek started to pull pain from him, even though it was starting to become less and less necessary. It still felt immensely good to relax without the aches being in the way. But right now, Stiles really did not want to relax. 

They were quiet for a really long time. It didn’t feel weird though, it felt nice. It felt companionable. There were not a lot of people Stiles could just sit with, and the fact that they were close enough for this to feel normal was interesting. 

“It’s nightmares,” Derek said eventually.

Stiles nodded. 

“How bad?” Derek asked, hand gently rubbing Stiles’ leg where he was pulling pain. He was trying to be comforting, but it was more distracting than anything.

“Since I’ve gotten out of the hospital, they’ve been bad. Way worse than they were during the summer,” Stiles said, wanting to turn away from Derek. He hated being this vulnerable. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said quietly. 

There was another lengthy quiet, a pause that was held like a baited breath. 

Eventually, Stiles sat up, maneuvering himself into a better position. “Can we just watch a movie? Something to distract me?”

Derek nodded, sliding into bed to sit next to Stiles. 

***

Stiles woke up blearily, only to realize that there was another body in bed with him. A Derek shaped body. A Derek shaped body that had his arm wrapped around Stiles’ torso, pinning him to the bed. 

He needed to move before Derek woke up and saw him with a poorly timed boner, because seriously this situation was not one that Stiles needed to be in right now. While he really, really enjoyed it, he did not want to take advantage of some casual cuddling. And he definitely could not process all of it this early in the morning. 

Stiles quickly rolled out of bed, grabbing his crutches and awkwardly moving out of the room–

–only to run into his dad in the hallway. 

“Shit, dad,” Stiles said, catching himself on the crutches. “You can’t startle me like that.”

“I didn’t realize Derek had stayed the night,” John said, giving Stiles a Look. 

“Dad, it’s not like that,” Stiles started to argue. 

John put his hand up to stop Stiles. “Those things I said in the hospital, about you being happy, they were all true. But I also said them because you were laying battered in a hospital bed, and I was seriously concerned that I may never be able to say those things to you.”

“Dad, I know you don’t have to be sappy,” Stiles said, giving him a weak smile. 

John shook his head. “I don’t think you understand how short life is, and that you think you have a lot of time with a person, when you don’t. I want to make the most of my time with you, and I said I wanted to ground you–”

“Dad,” Stiles interrupted. “I understand. I’m not holding anything over you, and I understand completely. Now, can I go pee? I just woke up.” 

John must have seen something in Stiles’ face that wanted out of the conversation, and he conceded, letting him pass. “I’m off for my shift. If Derek’s going to be staying over, we need to have a way more serious conversation than me saying I want you to be happy.”

“Yes, dad. See you later,” Stiles said, crutching quickly to the bathroom. 

After he relieved himself, he went back into his bedroom, slightly surprised to see Derek awake and sitting up in bed. Somehow, Derek looked like a sex god, even with rumpled hair and crease lines on his face from the pillow. 

“Hey,” Derek said, voice rough from sleep. 

“Hey,” Stiles said back, unsure of how to act in this situation. 

“We must have fallen asleep after the movie,” Derek said, shrugging. He rubbed at his eyes, waking up fully. This was the most un-put together that Stiles had ever seen Derek. Even at the loft, which was Derek’s home, he never looked this relaxed or comfortable. He never showed that he was this soft of a person. It was adorable. Stiles filed away this image in his brain, saving it even though he probably shouldn’t. 

“No nightmares,” Stiles said, smiling. “That’s a nice change.”

Derek smiled sleepily. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

They stared at each other. It was different than any of the times they had looked at each other in the past. Or maybe Stiles was just extrapolating his feelings, but this felt different. Things were slowly feeling more and more like progress forward to something else between them. 

“Want to help me make some breakfast? It’s hard to do when I’ve got to crutch around.”

“Sure,” Derek said, getting up to follow him downstairs.

***

That night together unlocked something in Derek, because he now unashamedly came over more frequently, especially on nights where they didn’t have training. 

Over the next week, Derek was at his house five out of seven nights, and he stayed over two of those nights. Although, not necessarily on purpose. They would watch a movie to get Stiles relaxed, and they would both end up falling asleep. Coincidentally both of the nights that Derek had stayed over, Stiles did not have nightmares. 

John was not exactly ecstatic about having Derek sleepover on school nights, but he didn’t say anything. Not when Stiles was looking more rested and happier than he had seen him in a while. He wanted to sit Stiles down and have that serious conversation he had mentioned, but it was difficult to when Derek was over all the time. 

Today, Derek had brought food from the diner over, the two of them sitting at the dining table eating their food. They sat across from each other, not talking much as they ate. 

“I’ve been trying to research that guy, the one from the preserve,” Stiles said, cracking open the container of curly fries. 

“Yeah?” Derek asked, mouth full of food. 

“Nothing yet, but I still think he’s essential,” Stiles said, waving a curly fry around. “I’m going to figure out who he is and why he’s important.”

There was a knock at the door, loud and demanding. Stiles looked at Derek, slightly confused. They both listened for a moment, and the person knocked again. 

“I’ll get that,” Stiles said, hopping up. He crutched over to the door, faster now that he’s had some practice with it. He struggled to open the door for a moment but it swung open to reveal Scott. 

They had not spoken since their fight, despite the fact that they had two classes together and generally worked in the same circles. Lunchtime was spent with the pack now, as well as basically any free moment outside of school. When they passed in school, Scott would often duck away or disappear, which meant their interactions were limited. 

Which is why Scott turning up at his house unannounced was extremely weird. 

“Scott? What are you doing here?” Stiles asked, leaning back on his crutches. He could feel Derek walk up behind him, footsteps soft but his presence large. 

Scott looked between Stiles and Derek, brow furrowing in confusion. “I thought you’d be alone. I didn’t realize _he_ would be here,” Scott said pointedly. 

“What do you want?” Stiles asked. 

“I wanted to talk to you alone,” Scott said. 

“Not going to happen. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to Derek. He’s my Alpha, and he’ll hear everything you say anyways,” Stiles said. He was really not in the mood to entertain Scott’s attitude and hatred for Derek. 

“Fine. There’s a pack of Alphas that’s been circling the town, and I figured that you should know. They seem threatening but I haven’t interacted with any of them yet,” Scott growled.

Stiles barked out a sharp laugh, not able to hold his surprise in. He almost doubled over, gasping for breath laughing. The situation wasn’t funny, not in the slightest, but he couldn’t help but laugh at the stupidity of Scott and the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Scott asked, sounding angry now. 

“Stiles was kidnapped by the Alphas almost three weeks ago. We’ve known about their presence in town since the beginning of summer,” Derek answered, seeing that Stiles was unable to control his emotional outburst. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Scott growled, his eyes flashing beta yellow. 

“You said you weren’t pack. Then you don’t get the courtesy of knowing pack business.” Derek was displeased at this entire interaction. 

“Scott, go home. If we need you, we’ll contact you,” Stiles said. Before he could get a response, he swung the door shut in Scott’s face. 

Stiles crutched back to the dining room, a mix of emotions bubbling in his chest. There was not one particular thing rising to the surface, which made his whole body feel hot, like he was crawling out of his skin. 

“Hey,” Derek said, pulling at Stiles’ arm. He spun him around, pulling him into a hug. Derek’s strong arms wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders, pinning him to his chest. 

Somehow, this was exactly what Stiles needed. When was the last time he had a hug? He leaned into the contact, wrapping his arms tightly around Derek’s torso. A sob escaped out of his chest, and he was crying fat tears. He didn’t realize how sad he was about Scott until now; losing his best friend was not something he was willing to cope with. 

“It’s okay,” Derek whispered, rubbing his hands across Stiles’ back to reassure him. 

After another few moments, Stiles pulled back, wiping his eyes and leaning back on his crutches. “Didn’t know you were a hugger, sourwolf,” Stiles said, trying to alleviate the situation and distract from his own tears. 

“Werewolf families are kind of touchy,” Derek said quietly. 

Stiles couldn’t even imagine how hard that would be, going from a large, close family to absolutely nothing. If Stiles was feeling starved for a hug after only a few weeks of going without, he couldn’t imagine how touch starved Derek was after having so much, and then nothing at all. 

It was not surprising in the least that Derek would be a hug person. Actually, Stiles should have expected it a little bit more, considering his werewolf background. 

“I’ll accept a hug anytime,” Stiles said, smiling. “We both need it.”

“Let’s finish eating,” Derek said, pushing at Stiles’ arm. “I’m not reheating the curly fries. They’ll get soggy.”

“Didn’t know you were the food police,” Stiles said, sitting. 

They both tucked back into their food, as if the interruption hadn’t happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are spicing up now things are spicing up now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally supposed to be much longer in my plans, but this felt like a better chapter ending so *shrug* here's this chapter. 
> 
> We've still got a long way to go in this story! I'm officially putting chapter count at 12, but I might put an epilogue so don't be afraid if that changes.
> 
> My tumblr: here  
> Spotify playlist: here

In the larger web of werewolves, Stiles had no idea how to contact any other packs. Somehow, neither did Derek. 

“What do you mean, you don’t know any other werewolves?” Stiles asked, hauling his cast up onto Derek’s couch. “You must have met others, or at least known of others.”

Derek shrugged, lifting Stiles’ cast so that he could sit, pulling both of Stiles’ legs into his lap. “Alpha mates tend to handle pack communications, so I had no idea growing up. In New York, my sister did all of the communicating for us. We didn’t really socialize with other werewolves there. There aren’t really that many packs, and they all fought a lot,” Derek explained, looking at the strings of runes on Stiles’ cast. 

His fingers traced the runes, touch light as a feather. Even though it was impossible for Stiles to feel it, he swore he could feel the sensation of Derek’s fingertips on his skin underneath the cast. At least, Stiles really wanted to feel Derek’s fingers on his skin. 

He really needed to stop pining so hard. If Derek couldn’t feel the pining by now, then he must be a lot stupider than originally assessed. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t fix the issue. We need to talk to other packs, see if anyone knew this Miles Burton guy. I can’t trust that the online discussion boards actually hold real werewolves,” Stiles said, scrunching his face in thought. 

When he looked up, he caught Derek staring at him intently. Derek looked away quickly, averting his gaze back towards Stiles’ cast. There seemed to be a slight blush on Derek’s cheeks, but it went away quickly. Weird. 

“I’ll look through Peter’s stuff. He left some stuff behind and maybe there’s information,” Derek said, brow furrowed. 

“I still can’t believe you are such an introvert that you didn’t befriend any other werewolves in New York,” Stiles teased.

“I’m not an introvert,” Derek said plainly. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You hate other people and interacting with anyone in public, you’re a homebody, and you prefer a night in alone rather than going out with the pack. You’re an introvert.”

“Laura used to say I was an extrovert. In high school,” Derek said quietly, hands still. 

There was a silent pause between them, the information hanging there. It was always like this whenever Derek brought up his family. Not necessarily because it had to be, but because Stiles often was surprised enough to not know what to say. He wanted to be supportive, but wasn’t sure how to do that without being insensitive. 

“I didn’t think I had changed that much,” Derek added, sounding small. 

“I like the you that you are now,” Stiles said quietly, ducking his head. He wanted to say more, to express more, but somehow Derek made him shut his mouth. He wanted to take a step back and acknowledge this tender moment. 

“Really?” Derek asked. He looked up at Stiles tenderly, his face open and vulnerable. It was the first time, probably ever, that Derek was truly offering a vulnerability. 

“Even when you’re quiet, or you get closed off, you still take time and care to respect what’s happening and try to make decisions that are best for everyone. I like the way you care for others,” Stiles said, feeling equally vulnerable. This was as close as Stiles had ever gotten in admitting his feelings for Derek, and it was scary. Extremely scary. 

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s just you being you,” Stiles said, kicking Derek lightly with his cast. He was trying to lighten the mood, not because he was uncomfortable, but because he wasn’t sure if Derek was totally comfortable. He wanted to bring it back to a space that the two of them more frequently shared. 

“Let’s watch a movie. We can get into research more tomorrow,” Derek said, pushing at Stiles’ hip. “Scoot over.”

***

Stiles, being the detective that he was, decided to search Facebook instead of looking online for this Miles guy. If he could backtrace any of his friends on Facebook, he might be able to contact these people and see who he was as a person. 

On Facebook, he found the guy quickly but he only had a few friends. Which made the searching both way easier, and more difficult. It meant less people to contact, but it also meant far less leads on who could know who he was. 

Stiles started with the photos he had uploaded and were tagged in. There were only a few, so sorting through them was the easiest job. There were three potential people that had popped up in the photos that could know who he was. In particular, there were two photos of Miles with another woman who was tagged, named Casey. 

Going to Casey’s profile, she had a more prolific showing of friends and photos. In a majority of photos, people’s heads were turned away from the camera, or they had sunglasses or their eyes closed. When more and more of the photos turned up like that, it started to get the cogs moving in Stiles’ brain. The only people he personally knew who did that were werewolves, who had a reason to look away from the camera. 

Shooting his shot, Stiles opened up a new message to Casey. 

“Hey Casey,” he mumbled, talking along with his typing. “I hope this finds you well. I was wondering what you knew about Miles Burton. I am an associate of Derek Hale and we have some questions.”

He hit send, feeling a relief at finding a potential lead into the situation at hand. 

***

“Have you heard back about the whole Miles thing?” Derek asked, rotating in Stiles’ desk chair. He tossed a spare lacrosse ball in the air, watching it carefully. 

“I told you I messaged that woman this morning. She hasn’t gotten back to me yet,” Stiles said, tilting his head back against his pillows. 

“Okay,” Derek said, but it didn’t sound like he meant it. 

“So, I was thinking, Thanksgiving is coming up,” Stiles started, feeling nervous. “I wanted to know if you would come over for it. We could invite the pack, and whoever wanted to come could have a nice family meal,” Stiles continued, watching Derek’s face to try and gauge his expression. He wanted Derek to have a nice Thanksgiving, one that was surrounded by his pack. He wasn’t sure when Derek last had something like that. 

“Your dad said yes to this?” Derek asked, his hands stilling in his lap. 

Actually, his dad was not necessarily okay with this, despite how comfortable he seemed in approving Derek in the past. His dad had actually said, “Are you sure you want to put all your eggs in one basket?”, and then he gave Stiles a very pointed look. 

“He was okay with it,” Stiles said. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth. 

Derek’s eyes flicked to Stiles’ chest, as if he could see the lie in his heart. If he heard any uptick of a heartbeat, he didn’t say anything, and just resumed tossing the lacrosse ball. 

“Do you want to?” Stiles asked nervously, not quite sure if that was a resounding ‘yes’.

“Of course,” Derek said, actually serious. He got up, putting the lacrosse ball back onto Stiles’ desk. “Scoot over. We started watching Avengers the other day, but you fell asleep in the first ten minutes, and I didn’t finish it.” 

“I can’t help that your pain pulling magic puts me to sleep,” Stiles said. “And I made a little herb satchel to help with my nightmares, and it knocks me out,” Stiles added, digging underneath his pillow to produce a small bundle of herbs. 

“So the magic thing is working?” Derek asked, pushing at Stiles’ hip as he climbed into bed next to him. 

“Seems to be. I haven’t tried that many things, but I’m slowly working my way through the book to see what I can and can’t do,” Stiles said, shrugging. He pulled his laptop onto his lap, making sure that the DVD was still in the machine and ready to go. “Sit back and enjoy the show,” Stiles said, pressing play on the movie. 

“Shut up,” Derek murmured.

***

When Stiles woke up, the first thing he registered was the way that Derek’s arm was tight against his torso, holding him close. Their faces were almost nose to nose, legs tangled as best as they could be with Stiles’ cast in the way. 

Derek looked soft, his dark eyelashes evident on his relaxed face as he slept. His mouth was parted just slightly in sleep, breath coming out in short bursts. He looked beautiful. 

In his efforts to untangle himself, Stiles bumped into Derek hard with his cast, almost kicking him. He winced at his clumsiness, looking back to Derek’s eyes. 

His eyes were open, staring at Stiles. “Morning,” he murmured, continuing to hold Stiles close. 

“Hey,” Stiles said softly, stilling. He tried not to do anything stupid for those few moments, looking at Derek and hoping for the best. It wouldn’t take long before his scent or his heartbeat betrayed him. 

Before he could say anything stupid, Derek was pulling Stiles even closer, their bodies pressed tight together. He paused, their faces just a breath apart, as if to ask if everything was okay. 

Then he leaned in and kissed Stiles. 

It caught Stiles off guard, so he didn’t kiss back right away. He was stone still as Derek pressed his mouth to Stiles’s, softly, just once. When he pulled back, his eyes scanned Stiles’ face, searching for something. 

Derek started to frown and pull away quickly, clearly thinking that something bad was happening. 

Before he could leap out of bed or do something irrational, Stiles hauled him in again and kissed him firmly. His lips were softer than anticipated. With all of the scruff and grumpiness, Stiles had anticipated roughness and intensity. This was soft kissing, their mouths pressing together deliciously. 

Derek pulled back, scanning Stiles’ face for a moment. He seemed to realize what was happening, his eyes widening with some sort of recognition of a mistake or misstep. “Shit,” he said, pulling all the way away from Stiles. He got out of bed quickly, running his hands over his hair. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked, voice weak. 

“Shit,” Derek repeated, pulling on his shoes quickly. He grabbed his leather jacket off of the back of Stiles’ chair and was out the window in a matter of moments. If Stiles had blinked, he would have missed him entirely. 

That was something. It was interesting, to say the least. 

Never in a million years did Stiles think he would wake up in Derek’s arms and have him lean in and kiss him. It seemed impossible. It seemed crazy strange. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would happen to Stiles. Poor, awkward, ridiculous Stiles. 

But it did happen. And all Derek had to say about it was ‘shit’ before he ran away. That was probably not a good thing, if any of Stiles' experience and knowledge of romance was correct. That was actually probably the worst reaction possible. 

“What the fuck?” Stiles said to himself, reaching up and touching his lips. He felt them as if there were traces of Derek left, but there was nothing. It was a passing moment, one that was gone. It was a moment he wanted to happen again. 

He laid there for a long time, looking at the ceiling and replaying the moments over and over again. There was nothing more that he could do besides think of how he could have gone wrong, or if any of the awkwardness was directly his fault. 

All he knew is that he wanted to kiss Derek again. And that some part of Derek wanted to kiss him too. 

***

Stiles cornered Lydia the next day at school. Monday’s meant training, but he couldn’t possibly wait until then to sort out this whole thing with Derek. After the radio silence after their kiss, Stiles was not about to let the awkwardness continue for more than a few days, if that. 

“Lydia!” Stiles called, drawing her attention. He had already saved a table at lunch, waiting for her. The other betas, besides Jackson, had plans to get fast food for lunch off campus, and had already disappeared in Isaac’s car. 

“Why so eager?” Lydia said, primly taking a seat. “I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a moment.”

“Derek kissed me. And ran away.”

Lydia paused, her lips pursing in thought. She didn’t say anything, the silence stretching between them for a long time. 

“Are you going to say anything?” Stiles asked, gesturing wildly. “I actually need some help here, and you’re not helping!”

“Interesting.” That was all that Lydia said, her eyes lost in thought. He wanted to know what she was thinking so badly, if only to have some sort of guidance for his life. He needed to know what to do, and what not to do. She was the kind of girl who knew these things. 

“What’s up, peg leg,” Jackson said, taking a seat next to Lydia. He kissed her cheek, looking skeptically at Stiles. 

“Derek kissed me and then ran away,” Stiles repeated for Jackson’s sake. 

Jackson and Lydia exchanged a look. 

“Not my problem, Stiles. I have enough stupid men in my life, and I was hoping that you were not one of them. I guess I was wrong,” Lydia said, standing quickly. “Jackson, deal with him.” She walked away quickly. 

“Deal with me? What does that mean?” Stiles asked, feeling more frantic and scattered now. 

“It means that you’re a lot to handle, and that you’re probably going to freak out instead of being practical,” Jackson said, shrugging. “I’m just more apt to deal with your bullshit because I won’t stand for it.”

“So I’m difficult now, great,” Stiles said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 

Jackson huffed. “You’re not difficult. Everyone needs a different way of being handled, and Lydia is not the right person to handle you. She’s good at people who don’t talk. You talk too much for her.”

“This is really not helping my self esteem,” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Do you want help with Derek or not?” Jackson asked. 

“Of course! I’m having a total meltdown over this whole situation!” Stiles said. He still felt like he was buzzing out of his skin, or as if his brain was too loud. 

“What is the real issue?” Jackson asked, grabbing his lunch out of his backpack. 

Stiles had no idea where to start. “Maybe the fact that he ran away?” 

“Then there is some issue with communication. He doesn’t seem like a confrontational person, and you act like–” Jackson waved his hand at Stiles, as if to gesture towards the entirety of him as an issue. 

“I’m too aggressive for him?” Stiles asked, now confused at this logic. 

“Maybe he knew you were going to act like this and freaked out. Or he thought about the fact that you’re still in high school, and he’s an adult, and it’s kind of weird. Or maybe he realized that it was a mistake, and that he doesn’t like you as much as he thought. The possibilities are endless,” Jackson said, shrugging. 

“You’re really not helping.”

Jackson laughed. “And? You need to realize that he did it for a reason, so maybe you should talk to him about it. There is literally no way to know by sitting here, and freaking out about it doesn’t make it any better. Chances are, things are going to be okay.”

“That really gives me confidence,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. 

“It should. And I know that he likes you, so I wouldn’t worry too much,” Jackson said, gesturing at Stiles with his fork. 

“How do you know that?!” Stiles asked, his voice squeaky with surprise. 

“I can smell. And hear. All I know is that he gets flustered when you’re around, and he completely freaked out when you were hurt. He barely wanted to let you go over to the nurses in the ER, he was so emotional about it,” Jackson said, wrinkling his nose. “It’s actually pathetic.”

“So I have nothing to worry about?” Stiles asked, thinking hard. He never realized how much Derek liked him. 

Signs of Derek’s affection were falling into place. The casual touching, the hanging out, the protectiveness. All of those things pointed towards the fact that Derek was infatuated. Stiles really should have picked up on it sooner.

“As long as you don’t fuck it up, Stilinski, I think it will be okay,” Jackson said, kicking at his feet under the table. He was careful not to hit Stiles’ cast, which was still necessary for another two weeks. 

“I never realized how helpful you would be,” Stiles said. Most of his past interactions were not necessarily the best, and yet here was Jackson, trying his best to actually help him in a time of need. 

“As I said before, you’re not half bad. It’s the self-absorbed Scott who was dragging you down. Now, can we eat or what?”

***

When the time came for training that afternoon, Stiles couldn’t still his beating heart. 

He knew he was being a chicken and backing out, but he didn’t go. 

And he didn’t go the next day. 

Or the next. 

By Thursday, Jackson and Lydia were giving him increasingly meaningful looks, accompanied by a few friendly punches from Jackson’s side. The rest of the pack was oblivious to this change, but it was unsure what they thought of it. 

Based on the pathetic looks from Isaac and the cold attitude from Erica, they probably thought that Stiles was ditching them or trying to get out of the pack. Little did they know, he was avoiding Derek and everything that came with him. 

“I was trying to go over some new protective charms for the pack members, but you weren’t at training, so I actually couldn’t get anything done,” Lydia said pointedly, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. 

“I’ve been… busy,” Stiles said, knowing that was a blatant lie and a lame excuse at that. 

Erica looked sharply over at him. “Don’t lie, Stiles. You’re just ditching us,” she said. Even though her words were sharp, he could see the fear and sadness creeping behind it in her eyes.

“I promise you I’m not ditching the pack. I have personal things to work through first,” Stiles said, scrunching his face. There was no way he could tell them exactly what happened, because the pack would try to fix it. He already had Lydia and Jackson meddling in it, he didn’t need more pointed looks and nudges to try and fix it. 

As if he was the one who needed to fix things between him and Derek. Derek was the one who ran away and couldn’t face him. 

But, to be fair, Derek had some personal issues regarding past relationships and he had issues trusting people in an intimate matter.

Stiles felt frustrated at that thought though. He had his own issues, ones that involved trying to cope with being tortured and the ramifications of developing a mild PTSD. 

They were both fucked up people, and arguing about who was more fucked up did nothing to soothe Stiles’ brain. He could mull over it a hundred times and still be unable to really parse out who was worse off because they were individuals. 

Plus, none of this was actually helping him gain any courage to talk to Derek. The only way that they were going to be able to move through this, or past it, would be to talk through it. 

Stiles was scared of what would happen when he finally got around to talking to Derek. The thing truly preventing him from talking it through is the fact that Derek could have changed his mind about the kiss and asked Stiles to forget about it. At this point, with the way their relationship has shifted and changed, they could not go back. If Derek asked him to forget about it, there would be a possibility that Stiles would actually have to leave the pack. He couldn’t be in the same pack as Derek and not pine over him or continue to feel hurt. 

For some reason, knowing that there were two outcomes was both daunting and encouraging. If he got through the conversation, there were two logical outcomes, and Stiles could process both of them before talking with Derek. 

Thursday night, after being confronted by the pack at lunch, he finally decided to do it. He was going to talk to Derek. 

His heart was thrumming all the way to the loft. He got into the elevator and leaned heavily on his crutches, hoping that they could catch him if his good leg gave out. He didn’t want to feel so nervous, but his brain had betrayed him and kept working through the worst case scenarios. 

The loft doors slid open before Stiles could even struggle with them. Instead of seeing Derek, it was Isaac opening the doors. He took one look at Stiles and rolled his eyes, moving out of the loft. 

“Where are you going?” Stiles asked, eyes tracking him as he walked back toward the elevators. 

“I’m not sticking around to hear mom and dad have makeup sex. If Derek asks, I’m staying over at Jackson’s tonight,” Isaac said, getting into the elevator. He offered a quick wave before the thing was rocking downwards and out of sight. 

Mom and dad? Was that how the pack viewed him and Derek? Minimally Stiles viewed himself as the pack pet, or maybe a weird cousin. Definitely not taking care of the pack in any sort of way. Right now, they were taking more care of him than he was of them. 

He continued into the loft, hoping that Derek would be standing there so that this conversation would move quickly and efficiently. At first glance, he was not standing on the lower level in sight, which could be a bad sign. 

“Derek?” Stiles called out, trying to ignore the heart attack happening in his chest. The heavy beating of his heart reminded him of too many bad things, which was not helping his mental state. 

There was quiet for a moment. Derek’s footsteps made a soft noise on the old hardwood floors as he walked from behind the wall of the kitchen area, moving slowly towards Stiles. He stopped 10 feet away, looking cautious. He didn’t say anything. 

“You probably know why I’m here,” Stiles started, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “And you can probably hear and smell how nervous I am,” Stiles added, hands fidgeting on the grips of his crutches. 

Derek looked at where Stiles’ heart would be in his chest, as if he could see how fast it was thrumming. 

“I want to try and communicate. Talk things through, rather than avoid each other like we have been doing. You’re too important to lose,” Stiles said, ducking his head so that he didn’t have to look at Derek directly. He didn’t want his heart broken so quickly. 

“I like you. Like, really like you. I am so into you that I’ve been trying to hide it, but now that we’ve kissed, I think you know how much I like you now,” Stiles said, trying to take a deep breath. “And I think you might like me too. In a romantic way. If you want to pursue something romantic with me, know that I want it just as bad, if not more,” Stiles continued, his words starting to fail him. He took a deep breath as if to say more, but stopped himself. 

He expected anger. Or quiet dismissal. Or even a simple ‘no thanks’. All he got in return was a few beats of silence, which coming from Derek, was unsurprising. 

“We can’t,” Derek said simply, as if that was any sort of answer. “Besides, you don’t even like me. You can’t.”

“It’s always been you, Derek. Ever since I was holding you up in that pool, I realized that there was more to you than a scary werewolf. Since then, I’ve been into you,” Stiles said, biting his lip. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice sounding broken. 

Stiles looked up to see Derek, eyes wide and vulnerable, his shoulders curved forward in defeat. He looked ragged, as if he hadn’t slept in a few days, with his eyes tired and desperate. 

“Look, if you don’t want me, then tell me. I’ll avoid you and the pack and fade into non-existence,” Stiles said, even though the words hurt him as they came out of his mouth. To think about leaving the pack felt rough. 

“But, we could be together. We could, if you wanted to,” Stiles said, trying to be brave. He wanted it so badly, but was so unsure of how Derek would react. There was no way of really knowing exactly what he would do, or say. The only hope was that maybe Derek felt the same. 

“I want that, I really do,” Derek said honestly. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if that would hide any aspect of vulnerability that he was showing. “But we can’t for so many reasons.”

“Why? Why couldn’t we both be happy for once?” Stiles asked, looking up at Derek, making eye contact. 

“Because you’re in high school! And human! No matter what I do, it seems you still get hurt anyways! Those scars you have are all my fault, and I wish there was some way to erase them,” Derek said, holding himself tighter. 

“You think what happens to me is your fault? Derek, it’s the fault of the evil people who did this to me,” Stiles said, gesturing towards himself. “All you’ve done is protect me and save me.”

“I don’t want to endanger you,” Derek said, as if that was any reason for them not to be together. 

“I’ll be in danger no matter what. Why can’t we be in danger and happy? At least then we can feel good about our lives instead of having nightmares and trying to do better for our pack mates,” Stiles said, starting to feel frustrated. Seeing Derek try and make excuse after excuse to protect Stiles was not a comforting feeling. 

They both deserved to be loved. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” Derek admitted, pressing his lips together tight. 

“I don’t really know either. We’ll figure it out,” Stiles said. He stepped closer to Derek, his crutches squeaking on the floor. 

Derek closed the space between them, looking deeply into Stiles’ eyes. “You want this? Me?” he asked softly. He was a contradiction of hard edges and soft insides. 

“Yes,” Stiles breathed. He was trying to hold back, stay controlled, but this close to Derek all he wanted was to kiss him. 

“Okay,” Derek said, reaching out, hands tentatively grabbing Stiles’ waist. 

They leaned closer to each other, slowly as if testing the waters. When their lips finally pressed together, it was like a sigh of relief. They fit together so perfectly, Derek’s hands gripping at Stiles’ waist and pulling his body even closer. Their kiss wasn’t hot like fire, but more of a simmering of feelings and care that had been building up. It was a prequel for more, only the beginning of their story. 

When Derek finally pulled away, Stiles felt breathless with excitement. This was everything he had wanted. 

“Wow,” Stiles said, wishing he could put his hands on Derek instead of awkwardly balancing on the crutches. “I am so happy right now,” Stiles said. He truly meant it. Over the past few months, between Gerard and the Alpha pack and Scott, there had not been much room for happiness or joy in his life. He really felt it now. 

Derek smiled, slowly, his cheeks rounding as the smile stretched across his face. He had never smiled this big around Stiles before; typically he only smirked or offered small smiles that were more polite than anything. 

“I really like you like this,” Stiles said, smiling brightly back. 

***

Late Friday night, Stiles received a message back from that woman, Casey. 

_ Hey Stiles– what do you want to know? Anything for the Hale pack. _

Huh. So she was going to openly admit werewolves first. This was going to be a far easier conversation than he had originally anticipated. 

“Who was Miles Burton? Why did he show up dead in our preserve?” Stiles murmured, typing his questions back to her. 

He got a response right away. 

_ He was an Alpha of a small pack north of Seattle. The Alpha pack came through and offered him a position in their ranks. When he refused they terrorized him. He eventually ran away. We felt him pass and the Alpha status was passed to my partner.  _

This was not good news. He didn’t know much about the Alpha pack, but if terrorizing a pack to try and convince someone to join their ranks was an M.O., then either someone had betrayed the pack, or Derek was lying about being approached by them. 

“Thanks for the info. The Hale pack is grateful for your help,” Stiles murmured, typing her back. 

He needed to call Derek, to figure out what sort of event caused this specific chain of events. He dialed Derek, held the phone to his ear, and waited to hear him pick up. 

“Stiles?” Derek answered, his voice immediately worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Is me calling you that weird that you assume something is wrong?” Stiles asked, leaning back in his desk chair. 

“Yes.”

“Okay, fine, something is kind of wrong. You know that Casey woman who I contacted about Miles Burton?” Stiles asked, rotating himself gently. 

“Yes?”

“He was an Alpha. She’s one of his pack members, and she said the Alpha pack had approached him about joining their ranks. Does this sound familiar to you?” Stiles asked, tapping his fingers on his desk absently. 

“What.”

“Did they approach you? If they did, I really need to work on upping the protections on the loft, and maybe even a necklace or something to keep you personally safe and–”

“They didn’t approach me,” Derek interrupted, cutting Stiles off. “But if that’s the pattern they follow…”

“Then someone from our pack is colluding with them somehow,” Stiles finished, pointing out the obvious. 

“Yeah.”

Stiles wanted so badly to be in the same room with Derek, to reassure him that it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. He knew this had to be hard, to have people continue to betray you over and over again. Who could it possibly be now?

“Want to come over and watch a movie with me?” Stiles asked, tipping his head back to look at his ceiling. “I know it’s late already but.”

“I’ll be over in a few,” Derek said, hanging up quickly. 

The least Stiles could do was help him process. Especially now that they were romantically entangled, their lives weaving together ever tighter. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving sort of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you know how I said that I had 12 chapters planned? Well I keep adding more things because they feel right for the story, and then I don't complete the plot points that I want to reach in each chapter. So we are currently behind a whole chapter's worth of plot, and I am not sure what I'm going to do about it. 
> 
> Sorry that this is a bit more of a filler chapter than I intended for it to be. I really wanted to flush out some of these relationship aspects and explore more of the interpersonal stuff, so not a lot of plot happened in this chapter. Just some good ole fluff. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! I really appreciate it. The comments and kudos really help motivate me to write, so thank you so much. It's so much easier to write when I know people are enjoying what I'm writing.
> 
> As always, here's some links:  
> [Tumblr](https://rain-or-clouds.tumblr.com/)  
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3v2nHx5SI3f68SuKvLigNn?si=rEhEBRwpTZi5z77vcJ3R9Q/)

John usually worked Saturday mornings. What was surprising was the fact that this particular Saturday, he was not working, and instead sitting at the dining table, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. 

Stiles had just come downstairs for some water, leaving a sleeping Derek in his bed. They had talked (or rather, Stiles had talked) about the Alpha pack and what the possibilities were when it came to why they wanted the Hale pack specifically. It was a long conversation, and after they were finished, Stiles had held Derek to his chest and they had fallen asleep entangled. 

He had anticipated his father being at work. He had even sort of planned on his father being at work so that he and Derek could make some brunch and sit around together. That was all out the window. 

“Hey,” Stiles said, grabbing a cup out of the cabinet, leaning heavily on his crutches. “Thought you were working today.”

“Traded shifts with Parish, the new deputy. He has some wedding to go to tomorrow, so I did the nice thing and traded. Thought we could go for pancakes or something this morning, but there was a surprise in your bed,” John said, not looking up from his newspaper. 

Stiles gulped, trying not to act weirded out. He wanted to keep Derek for himself for a little while without having to share the news of their relationship to everyone he knew. He especially did not want to tell his dad right away, just to have a few days of nice honeymoon style happiness. 

“We’re trying to figure out this Alpha pack thing. It’s stressful on him,” Stiles said, going about getting a glass of water. He was trying to hold his face neutral in hopes that he wouldn’t give everything away with one glance. 

“Sit,” John said, gesturing towards the chair across from him. 

Stiles sat reluctantly. 

“Derek’s here a lot,” John said, looking pointedly at his son. 

“Yeah, we’ve kind of gone over this,” Stiles said, taking a shaky sip from his cup of water. 

“Remember what I said? That we’d have to have a serious conversation if he kept staying over?” John asked. He set his newspaper down, giving his full attention to Stiles. 

“I remember,” Stiles said, trying to figure out where this was going. 

“And remember what I said about putting eggs into one basket?” John asked, expectantly. 

Stiles nodded. “But I really like this basket,” he said quickly, forcing the words out before he could regret it. “This basket is kind and cares about me and has the cutest face–”

John put a hand up to stop Stiles. “I can’t tell you that I absolutely love this decision, but I want nothing more than for your happiness,” John said. He looked over his son’s face, trying to read it as best he could. “Something tells me that he means a lot more than I even know.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, sighing a little. 

“But you’ve proven time and time again that he’s what you want, and I will continue to support it. In many ways, the two of you are just two kids,” John said, shaking his head fondly. “He’s had a hard time in life.”

“He really has. But we understand each other,” Stiles said, fiddling with his hands under the table. 

John looked at Stiles as if assessing him. There was a lot he could say, but he kept his mouth shut. Those were different conversations for different days. “Go wake him up and we’ll all go get breakfast at the diner.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, slightly surprised. 

“I already approved of him, Stiles, what more do you want? At least let me know him so I can prove myself right and know you’re in good hands,” John said, exasperated. 

Stiles got up quickly, abandoning his cup. “You won’t regret this.” He crutched off as quickly as his body would let him, energized with the thought of his father approving of something he was doing. 

“I better not regret this,” John muttered, just out of earshot.

***

When they all sat down at the diner, Stiles and Derek on one side of the booth, John on the other, it was almost as awkward as that first dinner together. The silence was palpable and the tension was practically visible. There was nothing much that Stiles could personally do besides glance between his father and Derek, hoping to read their moods enough to help dissuade any unease. 

To try and ease the tightness in Derek’s eyes and the tenseness in his shoulders, Stiles reached under the table and put his hand on Derek’s leg, hoping that the physical connection would let him calm down enough to have a conversation. 

“How’s everything going with Parish? He adjusting well as the new guy?” Stiles asked politely. 

John looked between the two of them, as if deciding whether or not he wanted to question any aspect of what was going on. Apparently between Stiles’ polite question and the uncomfortable look on Derek’s face, he was not going to grill them just yet. 

“He’s doing well. Nice kid. His family used to live here a few years ago, but most of them moved up into Oregon. He transferred back down because some old great aunt had left her house to the family, and he volunteered to take care of it,” John said, shrugging.

“I’m glad to hear he’s fitting in well,” Stiles said, picking at his napkin. 

They were thankfully interrupted by the waitress coming by to take their orders. Unsurprisingly, Derek ordered a massive omelet. Stiles and his dad both got pancakes. 

“Should I have ordered pancakes?” Derek whispered, trying not to be obvious about his distress. 

Stiles squeezed his knee. “You’re fine,” he whispered back. 

This was the first time that he had ever brought home a guy, or anyone, so this process was very new for Stiles. He wasn’t sure how to act, or even how to reassure Derek. It felt as if everything he knew was out the window in the face of his father. 

“So,” John said, taking a sip of his coffee. He let the pause hang in the air, looking between the two of them. “This is something.”

“Dad, can we not do this? You already grilled him last time he was here,” Stiles said, leaning forward. When he moved, it was more obvious that his hand was on Derek’s leg under the table. 

John’s eyes zeroed in on how close they were touching, knowing that the touching was more significant than he had originally thought. “This is not something I can change,” John said plainly. 

“If I may, sir,” Derek said formally, looking stiff and uncomfortable. “I care about Stiles. If he gets hurt, then I get hurt. I couldn’t imagine being without him.” Derek looked away quickly after this, as if eye contact was suddenly going to make him explode. 

Stiles couldn’t help but look at Derek, lips pulling into a gleeful smile. He was never that good with words, but this small sentiment of him stating his care for Stiles out loud was enough to get him grinning. Derek really liked him to say that to his father. 

“Well,” John cleared his throat. “I’m confident things will go well.”

“I hope so,” Stiles said, bumping his shoulder into Derek’s. “Last thing any of us needs is drama before Thanksgiving.” 

“What dish are you bringing to Thanksgiving? Every guest brings a dish,” John said, raising his eyebrows in question. 

Derek was not known for his cooking. Or for his ability to follow a recipe very well. Things tended to turn very wrong inadvertently, and he had a hard time not getting frustrated. This quality had plagued him since he was a teenager, trying to bake cookies for the basketball bake sale and having Laura laugh him out of the kitchen with how poorly he was doing. 

“I was hoping that Isaac could come too,” Derek said, looking over at Stiles. “Since his dad died he’s been lonely.”

This was not news to John. The rumors about where Isaac Lahey ended up were circling around the station. Everyone sort of knew that after his father had died, he was officially emancipated and had sold his house. John never really knew where he had ended up, but with Derek somehow made the most sense. 

“Of course,” Stiles said enthusiastically, clapping his hands together. “A real pack Thanksgiving!” 

The weirdest part about the entire brunch as it progressed was the fact that it felt less and less awkward as time progressed. Derek was still uncomfortable, but he offered more information and contributed to the conversation more frequently. 

Hell, even Stiles was starting to feel right at home with his dad and Derek discussing different techniques for fixing the gutters on their house. It was boring, but the two of them were completely interested in what way they could be fixed. 

Stiles was trying really hard not to get his hopes up, even though things were going well. It was always hard to try to predict if things would continue to go well in the future, but this gave him the hope that they could go well for right now. 

***

_ “Who do you think you are? Some stupid human? Why do you think you matter at all?” Gerard said, twirling the whip in his hands.  _

_ “I could ask you the same thing,” Stiles said gruffly, his voice tired from screaming.  _

_ “You little shit–” Gerard cut himself off, grabbing Stiles’ jaw in one meaty hand.  _

_ A noise came from the other side of the room where Stiles couldn’t see. “And you’re failing spectacularly yourself, Argent. The boy isn’t going to give up the Alpha.” The voice was unmistakably Duke’s.  _

_ He came into view of Stiles, looking just as smug and annoying as ever.  _

_ “Fuck off,” Stiles spat, face aching from where Gerard was holding his jaw.  _

_ “We all know that when it came down to it, you would rather die and sacrifice yourself than give up Derek. Why do you lay yourself on the line for these wolves over and over?” Duke asked, giving Stiles a pointed look.  _

_ Duke pushed Gerard out of the way, getting far closer to Stiles than he was comfortable with. “We are coming for Derek, whether or not you give him up.” Fast as lightning, his hand struck across Stiles’ face, splitting his lip.  _

Stiles woke up with a gasp, hand flying to his face to cup his mouth. 

It had felt so real, even though it was impossible. The nightmare felt as if it were happening, his mouth aching with the strike that never happened. Seeing Duke felt so real, even with the now dead Gerard standing next to him. 

Fumbling on his bedside table, Stiles grabbed his phone. He dialed Derek quickly (labeled ‘sourwolf’ in his phone), tapping his fingers on his leg as he waited for him to answer. 

“What’s wrong?” Derek answered, already sounding worried. 

His voice alone let Stiles relax. He laid back into his pillows, glad to know that Derek was okay. “I had a nightmare.”

This was something that they both had. Their nightmares had always been discussed more indirectly. They were always mentioned as occurring, but neither Derek or Stiles wanted to reveal what their nightmares were about. Stiles had them more frequently than Derek, and even then, it was only vaguely mentioned that Gerard had screwed him up royally. 

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, ever worried. 

This was a new side of Derek that Stiles liked. The worried-boyfriend side. It was nice to have someone care about him in the way he cared with his whole heart. Derek was always kind of quiet, but his words mattered. He was asking a lot more than whether or not Stiles was okay. 

“Yeah. It was a double feature tonight. Both Gerard and Duke,” Stiles admitted, closing his eyes. He wanted to block out the memories, but every nightmare brought them up fresh again. He could almost feel the cut down his chest or the way that Duke had slashed his skin open. 

The slashes on his chest were healing up nicely, but they were scarring. Pink scars almost a quarter inch wide marred his chest, a permanent reminder of the ways that Stiles had sacrificed himself for his wolves, for his pack. 

“I can come over.”

“I think I’ll be okay. It’s late,” Stiles said, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “I just wanted to talk to you,” Stiles admitted, letting himself be vulnerable. 

He was always revealing things to Derek, things that he never wanted to let anyone know. Here he was, telling Derek about his nightmares and admitting how lovesick he could be. He pushed down the nervous feelings, the ones that told him that Derek didn’t really like him, that anyday Derek would be dumping him for someone better. 

“Okay,” Derek said simply. 

This whole relationship thing was new for them. It was hard to know exactly what to do. 

“I want to be stronger,” Stiles said, shifting his cast on his bed. “I never want to break a bone ever again. This cast is so dumb and it gets in my way. It’s a reminder of how weak I am,” Stiles continued. If he could, he would rip the cast off with his bare hands. All the weeks of crutching around starting to wear on him. 

“You’re strong. Maybe not in the physical ways, but you’re strong in a lot of other ways,” Derek said, voice strong and insistent. 

“Says the guy with the abs,” Stiles retorts. 

Derek made a noise of disagreement, but didn’t say more. 

“I wish things were different. That I wasn’t so fucked up. Maybe things would be better if I wasn’t dealing with things plaguing my brain,” Stiles rambled. He wanted to shut up, but everything was coming out in a rush. “I want to be good. I want us to have a good relationship, and I want to help our pack. I even miss Scott, even with him being a total asshole.”

“I trust you.”

Those three words probably wouldn’t mean very much to someone else, but to Stiles, it felt like he had earned the highest honor. It was hard to earn Derek’s trust at all, and even though Stiles knew he likely had it already, it was another experience to hear him say it out loud. 

Stiles felt his heart swell. If the timing were right, he would be whispering ‘I love you’ into the phone. But the timing wasn’t right, and he couldn’t really be sure of himself. He knew that he cared deeply for Derek, but he didn’t want to jump to labeling it ‘love’ quite yet. Even if that’s what it felt like. 

“I can’t hide anything from you. You make me feel normal,” Stiles said. 

For a few moments they both quietly breathed. 

“I’m going to read some passages about magic from the beastiary, and you’re going to try and fall back asleep,” Derek said firmly. 

Stiles settled himself against his bed, holding his phone tight to his ear. “Okay.”

“Magic users fall into one of three categories: Wisewomen, sparks, and witches. Each holds a different amount of powers and are affiliated with other magical creatures to a varying degree. Wisewomen and witches traditionally associate with each other while sparks prefer the presence of werewolves or other shapeshifting groups. Of all magic users, sparks are the only ones who can become emissaries…”

Stiles tried his best to listen, but he felt himself drifting with the sound of Derek’s voice. It was soothing, knowing that someone was across the city, thinking about him. 

***

There was nothing like the quiet week of Thanksgiving. 

Stiles was busy with a few different things, which included but was not limited to: getting his cast off, preparing food for Thanksgiving, finishing his history essay about the Civil War, and apparently repairing Erica and Boyd’s relationship. 

Most of their relationship was news to him, but not for the reasons that one would think. He had avoided the two of them over the summer, and once the pack had started getting closer, he hadn’t made any effort to get to know them better. Anytime he spent talking to them only reminded him of their screams in Gerard’s basement. 

Stiles wondered if Scott even realized that his girlfriend’s grandfather had tortured three of his classmates and peers. 

He wanted to be friends with Erica and Boyd, but it was hard to try and get to know someone when all you could see was electricity coursing through their bodies and their muscles twitching in pain. 

The day after Stiles had exchanged his cast for a walking boot (Yay! No more crutches!), Erica had come knocking at his door. 

She had tears streaming down her face, makeup smudged and hair tied back haphazardly. She was sobbing, and even through those sobs, she had clear blue eyes. “Can I come in?” she asked politely, her arms clutching her own torso. 

“Of course,” Stiles said quickly, stepping back from the door. He was still sort of awkward on his boot, but he managed to hobble backwards and let Erica in. 

She stood in his doorway, crying, and not saying a word. He wasn’t really sure what to do next, if Erica wasn’t going to talk about what was currently troubling her. He wasn’t the best at dealing with tears, but he knew that he had to help her. She looked so small and helpless where she was standing, her body curled in on itself. 

“Do you want a drink? Something to eat? I can even make you up something,” Stiles said, trying to offer something he knew would possibly help. He wasn’t sure of a lot, but he knew that the first step to feeling better was hydration and food. 

Erica shook her head. “Can we just watch something? Curl up in bed?” she asked, voice small. She seemed so much less of the confident woman she had become over the past few months. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, motioning for her to follow him. He led the way up the stairs, leading her to his room. He offered her the bed first, letting her crawl in and settle herself against the wall. 

It was moments like this when Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how she and Boyd had coped after being tortured by Gerard. Did they have nightmares? Did they wait for the darkness to take them, only to be betrayed by their own brains at night? Did they get uncomfortable when they saw older men who looked like Gerard in public? 

Stiles crawled into bed after her, pulling his laptop onto his lap. “Did you have something in mind?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. 

She shook her head. “You choose.”

Stiles put on the first romcom at the top of Netflix, leaning back and starting to watch. 

The movie ended up being about a woman buying a farm and falling in love with the previous owner’s ranch hand, which was mildly unexpected and yet still entertaining. There was a level of ridiculousness to the whole affair, but even halfway through, Stiles was starting to really enjoy it. 

“Why is it so hard to be in love with someone?” Erica asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of the movie. 

Stiles reached over and paused it, trying to assess Erica. She seemed so small, but clearly there were a lot of very big things going on in her head. Her eyes were distant, not focused on the screen or even on anything in particular. 

“Because if it were easy, then it wouldn’t be worth it,” Stiles said simply. “That’s always what my mother said, anyways,” he added. 

It was one piece of advice that he always remembered. Whenever they would watch a love sequence on tv or read a book that had even an inkling of romance, she would always tell him that love was worth fighting for because it was hard. If it were easy, then everyone would have it. 

“I feel so messed up, and I am taking it out on Boyd,” Erica said, scrubbing a hand over her face. “All these thoughts go through my head, and yet I can’t seem to push them away. They take control of me and my brain.”

“That might be anxiety,” Stiles offered, as if that was a suitable explanation or very helpful for her at this moment. 

“But what do I do?”

“Talk it out. Work hard to control what you can, and take the steps to see someone to help control what you can’t. Things don’t always have to be difficult, and I know that letting it out can be a relief,” Stiles said, holding her closer. 

“Do you have nightmares?” Erica asked, looking up at Stiles’ face. 

“All the time.”

“What makes them go away? I feel like I get them more than Boyd, and even though we all experienced the same thing in that basement, it feels hard to relate to him when I feel as if he doesn’t have the same issues,” Erica said. “And I feel guilty acting like he wasn’t affected.”

“My suggestion is to communicate. What if he does feel the same, but he has a harder time outwardly expressing it?” Stiles said, shrugging. “There are only so many things you can do, but giving up is not one of them. Not if you love him.”

“Thanks,” Erica said, smiling smally. 

She reached over and pressed play on the movie again. For the rest of the duration, the tension had eased from the room. 

The conversation prompted something in Stiles’ mind. Here he was, preaching about communication to assist easing his nightmares, and yet he refused to discuss them, or his time being tortured, as real. He needed to take his own advice and open up more, even if it seemed hard or impossible. 

***

In the Stilinski household, Thanksgiving was a big deal. 

Not that any of them were particularly patriotic or nationalistic, but because it was the day that food was cooked and eaten in a big family celebration. 

His mother, even with as little family as she had, always made sure that every seat at the dinner table was full come Thanksgiving. Whether or not it was inviting other librarians from her work or asking Melissa and Scott to come over, the table was full of people and the conversation was always jovial. 

This year felt like a good year to revive this particular celebratory meal. 

Stiles had already coordinated with Derek and Isaac, who were both coming and both bringing a dish. Isaac had claimed the pumpkin pie while Derek was making a sweet potato casserole. 

(“Stiles, I can’t screw up a sweet potato casserole. I got this,” Derek had said over the phone. 

“Are you sure? Because I can always make it myself,” Stiles said quickly. 

“Let me do this one thing, you dork.”)

Both Erica and Boyd had their own families to attend to, so they wouldn’t be joining until tomorrow’s leftover potluck party. Jackson and Lydia were both out of town on separate vacations, with their families deciding that Thanksgiving was about tropical islands instead of family meals. 

His father was banned from the kitchen. This was due to an incident three years ago involving the turkey. How his father had managed to burn the turkey without actually cooking it was a mystery, but Stiles was not going to have a repeat of the Mystery Turkey Burn. 

From 8am until mealtime, Stiles was either in the kitchen, or revolving around the kitchen. Outside of the pie and sweet potato casserole, Stiles had to make: the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, steamed vegetables, green beans, dinner rolls, and pierogi. 

Pierogi was the one traditional Polish food that his mother used to make every holiday. It was officially a Stilinski tradition. 

Derek showed up at around noon. Which was a mistake. 

“You do know I’ll have to reheat that now,” Stiles said, gesturing with a spatula towards the already baked casserole. 

“It’s fine. Reheating in the oven is no big deal,” Derek said, shrugging. 

“No big deal! I have a lot on my plate, and you’re deciding that today’s a good day to make a casserole ahead of time?” 

Derek backed away from the kitchen, leaving the covered casserole on the counter. “I’m going to go watch tv with your dad and Isaac. I’m less afraid of them than you right now,” Derek said, moving out of the kitchen quickly. 

It didn’t have to be this stressful, but dammit. It was the one day a year where Stiles really felt like he was taking care of his people. It was also the first Thanksgiving since his mom died that he wasn’t going to have Scott and Melissa over, which meant that half of his typical family was gone. 

He had a new family to celebrate with this year. 

Stiles was still really unsure and almost scared of his relationship with Derek. It was both the best and worst thing to happen to him. The best because of obvious reasons, but the worst because of all the pressures that came with maintaining a relationship. He wanted to be the best person he could be for Derek, and be the best boyfriend. Being with a man was new for both of them, and neither really wanted to be the one making any mistakes. 

All Stiles wanted was Derek’s happiness, and he wasn’t sure how long he could provide that for him. Hopefully forever. Realistically, less time than that. He knew that the statistical probability of them being a couple forever was fairly low, but he still wanted to pretend like it was going to be the relationship of his dreams. 

“Stop worrying,” Derek said. 

Stiles looked up to see him leaning on the kitchen doorway, watching him quietly. 

“I’m not.”

Derek huffed. “You are. Tell me.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow, challenging Derek. He was only being defensive to hide his insecurities. He knew that. 

“Stiles, I’m your boyfriend, right?” Derek asked, stepping further into the kitchen. 

“Yes?” Stiles said, waiting for Derek to continue. 

“And being in a relationship means telling each other things.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, wiping his hands on a towel. “I see where you’re going with this. But I also don’t want to unload my insecurities on you, especially when it doesn’t affect you.” 

“But it does affect me. If it bothers you, it bothers me,” Derek said, closing in on Stiles. 

He reached out and grabbed Stiles’ hips, pulling him close. They were touching from the chest down, the physical contact almost calming for Stiles. He forgot how soothing it was for Derek to touch him, for the two of them to be in each other’s personal space. Must be a wolf thing. 

“I worry sometimes. I have nightmares. I have PTSD. These things are not easy to share. It feels like my head is going to explode, but whenever I want to talk about it, I can’t let a single thing out,” Stiles said, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to Derek’s shoulder. He let himself relax into Derek. 

“If you won’t talk, at the very least don’t push me away,” Derek murmured, holding Stiles tight. 

“Push you away? Why would I do that?” Stiles asked, leaning into Derek heavily. 

“You do it all the time in really small ways. Shutting down and getting in your head about things,” Derek explained. 

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to share every moment of your day. Just talk to me sometimes.”

“Like when I’m feeling insecure like this?” Stiles asked, pulling back to look at Derek. 

“Yes.”

Stiles leaned in and kissed Derek, just because he could. In moments like these, he wanted to steal kisses and pray that time had stopped for the two of them. Kissing Derek lit his whole body on fire, and if love felt this way, Stiles truly understood why everyone wanted it so badly. 

This was happiness, standing in his kitchen kissing Derek, waiting for Thanksgiving to finish cooking.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are spicing up now, things are spicing up now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who has commented and gave kudos so far. Knowing that there are people reading who are enjoying and waiting for an update pushes me to continue writing. 
> 
> If you haven't seen, I posted a Sterek one-shot. Very emotional nighttime talk, 2k, definitely worth checking out for a short read.
> 
> Sorry for posting that and not posting a chapter update, but this chapter was one I had to wrestle with. I always write out chapter by chapter plans when I'm writing a longer fic, but as a fic develops outside of my original plans, then things start to change. I wasn't sure what I wanted to include in this chapter or how fast I wanted things to develop, but we are putting the pedal to the metal at this point. Things are heating up!d
> 
> As always, here's some links for y'all:  
> [Tumblr](https://rain-or-clouds.tumblr.com/)  
> [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3v2nHx5SI3f68SuKvLigNn?si=M0-2kT0VR7G9Jbgh1602xg/)

Stiles heard a thump at the front door, which was uncharacteristic for a Saturday morning. The mail delivers usually reserved packages for the afternoon. Besides, he wasn’t expecting any mail or packages. 

He walked downstairs blearily, stumbling a bit on his booted leg. The time read just before 8am, which was really early for anyone delivering anything. But it wasn’t a knock, just a dull thud, like someone tossing a package against the door. 

Stiles opened the door and looked down. He immediately screamed, stumbling backwards.

At his feet was a dead deer, a marred sharp triskele carved into its side. Stiles gasped again, not wanting to look closer, but knowing he had to examine it further. Instead of being a triskele like Derek’s, it appeared as if it was the Alpha’s mark. 

He slammed the door shut, cutting off his view from the deer, not wanting to look at it anymore. He shakily dragged himself back up the stairs, sitting on the edge of the bed as he called Derek. 

Fucking Alpha pack. He knew that this was only a scare tactic, but it was still unnerving. They knew where he lived, they knew that he would be home alone on a Saturday morning, and they were well aware that Derek had not stayed over, despite the fact that he was in and out of Stiles’ house on a daily basis. 

Or, they specifically left the deer on Stiles’ porch because they knew he would go running to Derek immediately, and that was who their target was. They were clearly targeting Derek, but now they were using all sorts of means necessary. 

What did any of this have to do with their threat to take Stiles out? That Stiles was the brains of the operation? Were they expecting Derek to rush in? 

“Stiles?” Derek asked, finally answering the phone. 

“Get here now. They left a  _ deer _ on my doorstep,” Stiles said quickly, the fear in his voice bleeding through. 

“I’ll be there in ten.” Derek hung up quickly. 

Now all he had to do was wait. 

He could picture Duke, walking up to his house, tossing the deer. He could picture him standing and listening for Stiles’ heart rate, contemplating if it was worth walking up into his bedroom and knocking him around a little, just for fun. 

_ “Worthless,” Duke said, grinning down at him. “You will be worthless.” _

Stiles shook the memory out of his head, trying to focus back on the task at hand. Derek was going to come, and the moment he arrived, things would be better. He would have protection, someone to save him. 

The likelihood that the Alpha pack had stuck around and were planning to attack him now were low. Based off of all of the police information and random searches he had made over the years, Stiles knew that a symbol like this was frequently the message, and while they might stick around to watch Stiles’ reaction, they were not going to attack. This was a taunt, not an immediate attack. 

Even though he knew this information, the ten minutes it took for Derek to arrive were the longest ten minutes that Stiles had experienced in a long time. Even through the thick and thin of the last year, there was always a level of tension and immediacy. This was a taunt, meant to scare Stiles and keep him paralyzed with fear. Every worst case scenario was running through his head. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, and this time his voice came in person. He grabbed Stiles’ hands where they were resting on his knees, threading their fingers together and squeezing. He was trying to be reassuring, pressing his body in to give Stiles physical contact. 

“Did you see?” Stiles whispered, keeping his head down. He was staring at where their fingers were intertwined, trying to focus on that instead of the other million things in his head. 

Fuck, he loved Derek. That was the one thing that kept bouncing around. It had only been a short while that they were closer, and only a week of really being together, but Stiles loved him in this moment. 

The fact that Derek had rushed over to protect him, to care for him, was so huge. He trusted Derek with everything, and in return, Derek had proven to Stiles that he would keep them safe and ensure that they could be together. This was everything Stiles could have asked for in Derek. 

“I saw,” Derek said quietly. 

Stiles looked up into his eyes, seeing now that Derek was kneeling on the ground beside his bed. He was looking up at Stiles, eyes clear and bright, even though he looked worried. “I am so glad you’re here.”

He leaned down and kissed Derek softly, leaning his forehead against Derek’s when he pulled away. He felt safe with Derek. 

“I am going to call the pack and get them here. Can I leave you for a moment?” Derek asked, tugging on Stiles’ hands. 

“Do your Alpha thing,” Stiles said, squeezing once before letting go. 

Watching Derek stand and walk out of the room, even if he was just going into the hallway to make a phone call, brought forward all of these longing feelings. 

Stiles felt extremely emotionally vulnerable in this moment. There was not a lot he could do besides sit on his bed and wait for Derek to come back, but his heart felt like it was going to burst. The loving feelings towards Derek, and towards the pack, were overwhelming. 

Instead of focusing on how stressed he was, he pulled over the leather book that Derek had given him concerning magic. 

He had been working through it steadily, but it seemed that the only things he could do as a spark were small. The wards he put on Derek’s loft and his own house were probably most of the extent of what he could do. The book had descriptions of events where sparks became emissaries, helping the Alpha, but there was far less information about that. 

He looked up runes in the book, reading through the pages once more. There were specific runes he could use to convey specific things, but it was not the easiest to memorize how they combined into larger patterns. 

As a surprise for Derek, since they confirmed they were dating, Stiles had decided to weave him a bracelet with stones. His original plans were to carve protective runes on the stones, but now that he was having stronger feelings, he wanted to carve love runes onto at least one of the stones. 

“I called the pack and they’re coming,” Derek said, walking back into the room. He paused at the sight of Stiles with the book. 

“I’m doing some light reading,” Stiles said, jotting down the runes he wanted onto a spare sticky note. He looked up at Derek, trying not to let his heart flutter too badly. 

“C’mere,” Derek said, sitting next to Stiles on his bed. He pulled him into a hug, holding him tight to his chest. 

They sat like that for what felt like a very long time. Stiles could hear their hearts synching together, and when they were beating as one, he almost forgot about the deer on his front porch. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Stiles said, admitting one of his fears. 

If the Alpha’s were threatening Stiles, they were inadvertently threatening Derek. If they wanted Derek for some reason, they couldn’t have him. There was no way Stiles was losing him. He had lost so much already, between family members and friends, that he did not want to give up the one thing that was bringing him real happiness.

“You’re not going to,” Derek replied, pressing his face into the top of Stiles’ head. His arms felt strong around Stiles, holding him tight and firm. It was more soothing than anything else could have been. 

There was a more obvious commotion downstairs, but with Derek wrapped around him, there was no urge to see what was going on. If it was something dangerous, Derek would have gotten up to protect the two of them. Stiles knew that now. 

“What are we going to do now?” Stiles wondered aloud, pushing Derek back so that they were laying on his bed, Stiles’ head pillowed on Derek’s chest. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Derek growled, his voice rumbling in his chest. His arms tightened impossibly tighter around Stiles, almost painfully so. 

“So you’re the overprotective type,” Stiles murmured, fingers idly stroking along Dereks’ side, soothing both Derek and himself. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re my boyfriend,” Derek said, relaxing minutely. “I care.”

“I know you care. It’s just nice to have it reaffirmed,” Stiles replied. “If I’m going to worry endlessly about this deer and the Alpha pack, then at least I have the reassurance that you’re here.”

“Don’t forget it.”

“I know,” Stiles said, closing his eyes and attempting to relax. There was one thing that was niggling at the back of his mind. “Have you heard from Peter?” Stiles asked, thinking back to that photo of Duke and Peter, chummy together. 

“No,” Derek said. He had barely an inflection in his voice, but knowing Derek, this was enough to be concerned about. 

“Should we try and contact him?” Stiles asked. “With everything going on, he might be helpful. Ugh, I can’t believe I’m suggesting that.” Stiles shuddered at the thought of purposefully inviting Peter to help them. That guy was the worst.

“None of my calls have gotten through. It’s like he ditched his phone,” Derek said, hand brushing over Stiles’ back absently. 

“Is he still alive?” Stiles asked, lifting his head to look at Derek’s face. This was concerning, not hearing from Peter. It was too ominous for Stiles’ liking. 

Derek shook his head. “I haven’t been able to feel him since he came back from the dead. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.”

This was not good. A mysterious, nefarious Peter who cannot be traced by phone or even pack familial feelings? Who was friends with the head honcho of the Alpha pack? Who has been missing for several weeks, if not months? This had alarms going off in every corner of Stiles’ brain. 

“I think we need to find Peter,” Stiles said, looking down at Derek. 

“You think he’s involved in this,” Derek said, brow furrowing. 

Stiles shrugged. “Either he’s involved, or he has key information that could help. We need him.” 

Derek nodded, lips pressed tight. Instead of saying more, he pulled Stiles back down onto his chest, holding him tight. He kept rubbing his hands over Stiles’ shoulders and back, palms firm against his body. 

After a while, Stiles recognized it as it was: scent marking. Derek was scent marking Stiles, most likely to further the idea that Stiles belonged to the Hale pack, and that hurting him was a direct attack. 

Their cuddle session was interrupted by several sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. Instead of moving, Derek growled softly and continued to hold Stiles close, pressing his face against the top of Stiles’ head. 

The betas pushed their way through the doorway, all four crowding into Stiles’ room. 

“Aw, mom and dad,” Isaac said, genuine care in his voice. 

“Shut up, that’s gross,” Jackson muttered, voice filled with disappointment. 

“We did it,” Boyd said quietly, voice commanding. 

Out of all four Betas, Boyd was clearly the responsible one. Even now, with the four of them completing a task for Derek, they were still goofing around. And Erica was actively filing her nails, making sure that there were no chips or dings. 

Stiles pushed off of Derek’s chest, bringing the two of them back to a seated position. Even so, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, holding him close. The boy could not keep his hands off, which was sort of a good thing. Stiles found it soothing. 

“Thank you,” Stiles said, looking each of them in the eyes. 

“Pack protects pack,” Jackson said, nodding at him. “Now that we did the dirty work, can we all go get breakfast or something? I’m starving.” 

The other betas agreed quickly, looking to their Alpha for confirmation. 

“Go ahead, Stiles and I will come after,” Derek said, gesturing towards the door with his head. 

They watched as they betas left, jostling each other and being loud, even as they moved through Stiles’ house. The sound of the door shutting and the betas officially being out left the house in a dull quiet, one that Stiles didn’t notice until now. 

Stiles twisted to face Derek and kissed him firmly, insistently. Despite the horrific image of the deer, this morning wasn’t wasted by pain and fear. It was rebuilt with love and care. Derek was the major proponent of this, and right now all Stiles wanted was to feel close. 

***

There wasn’t a lot to say once they had convened at Derek’s loft. They were all full from breakfast, and instead of returning to their own homes, they had decided to go to his loft instead. 

“That’s all we know?” Jackson asked, looking between Stiles and Derek. “We haven’t found anything new about the Alpha pack?”

“There isn’t really a lot to find or research,” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest. As the primary researcher within the pack, he was feeling the scrutiny of the betas. Even Lydia had shown up, looking perfect as per usual. 

“Actual research cannot be done on the computer anymore,” Lydia said, backing Stiles up. “Nothing that we can find online can beat actually learning who these people are. A google search isn’t going to reveal who all is working with the Alpha pack.”

This was the somber reality. Despite Stiles being kidnapped and the resulting emotional turmoil from that, the Alpha pack had been silent for long enough that the rest of the pack had quickly forgotten how big of a threat they were. Everyone felt as if they could go about their normal lives again, and the Alpha pack was still out there. 

“We are going to canvas the entire town in pairs. Tonight,” Derek said, gesturing towards the map on the big table in front of the window.

Everyone gathered around to see a map of the town, color coded into different sectors. “We can’t all be out at once,” Stiles said, stating the obvious. If they were all out at once, then there was no one to act as backup if any one group got into trouble. 

Derek nodded in agreement. “We are going to canvas a different section every night until the entire town is swept. Scents don’t disappear that quickly, so we should be able to tell where they’re staying if it’s in town. After that, we are going to reassess what comes next.”

The pack nodded in agreement, looking down at the map. 

“Isaac and Jackson are going to take section A tonight,” Derek said, pointing towards the yellow colored section on the map. It was the main part of downtown that captured the hospital and the school. It was the most heavily populated, so the likelihood of the Alpha’s being there was slim. It was the best place to start. 

“What are the rest of us going to do?” Erica asked, looking around at the pack. 

“Stay home and be ready for a call or text from any of us,” Stiles said, shrugging. “There isn’t a lot that we can do except wait.”

“What about going on the offensive?” Jackson asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

Derek looked over at Stiles, the two of them sharing a look. They had not discussed this, but there was a merit to the suggestion. They both knew the primary issue: pack strength. 

“An Alpha is stronger than a beta, and they will beat any of you in hand to hand combat, one on one. That’s a fact. They have more experience and strength,” Stiles said, looking out at the betas. “Even if we have the numbers, anything offensive cannot be one on one.”

“And none of you can kill an Alpha, unless you plan on becoming one and leaving Beacon Hills,” Derek said firmly. 

This left the group silent. 

That was something that was a distinct possibility. Derek was the Alpha now, but if any of them became the Alpha on Hale land, it would be difficult for them to stay. Any of the betas becoming an Alpha would split the pack, which would be bad for several reasons. 

It also left a singular question hanging in the air: did any of them want to become Alpha’s themselves? This would be the opportune time to get Alpha status, if any of them desired. 

“Got it,” Jackson said, nodding. 

“What would I even do as an Alpha?” Isaac muttered, making a face at the thought. 

Erica and Boyd shared a silent look, their eyes doing all the talking. “Our alliance is with Derek,” Erica said, representing the both of them in her answer. 

“Jackson, are you interested in coming up with an offensive plan?” Derek asked, gesturing towards him. 

Jackson’s chest puffed with pride, and he clearly tried to hide a smile at the show of trust and respect that Derek was giving him. “Yes.”

It was settled. They had a plan of watching and reporting, and a potential offensive plan put together by Jackson. The pack was going to survive, dammit, even if it took everything they had. They had not survived this long and worked this hard only for a single event to tear them apart. 

***

Sunday mornings were for laying around. Ever since Stiles was a kid, Sunday’s were for laying around. His father rarely worked then, and as a family, Stiles and his parents would watch a movie in the morning, wearing pajamas until noon. Even after his mom died, Stiles always kept up with the tradition, waiting as long as possible to put real clothes on, if at all. 

The knock on the door was startling. It was barely 10am, and Stiles was just about to settle in for a movie with Derek. The two of them were on the couch, cuddled close, Stiles’ leg propped up. They were settled in. 

“Who is it?” Stiles asked, sitting up and stiffening. After yesterday’s deer, Stiles was on edge. The possibility of the Alpha pack was looming on the edge of his brain, and he couldn’t help but think the worst. His heart was quickening at the thought. 

Derek listened for a moment, still. “It’s Scott,” he said, hands gripping Stiles’ waist possessively.

That was stupid. Scott knew about the Sunday morning tradition. He had taken part in them more times than Stiles could count. It was sacreligious to do anything besides watch movies before noon. He was breaking the tradition. 

Stiles got up, hobbling over to answer the door. He was keenly aware that Derek had hung back, only standing to watch him cross the space. With all that Scott had done, or rather not done, this conversation could not end well. 

He opened the door a crack, not letting Scott see inside. He wanted his privacy and his morning respected. 

“Scott,” Stiles said, greeting him. He said nothing more, waiting for Scott to say his piece. If he was showing up unexpectedly, then he certainly had something to say. 

“Stiles. Can I come in?” Scott asked, far too formal and polite, even for their marred relationship. 

“I was actually going to settle in for a movie with Derek. Can you make this quick?” Stiles asked, wanting to slam the door on Scott’s face. 

He wanted so badly to be mean, to cause Scott the emotional turmoil that he had experienced, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the answer. If Scott truly cared about him, then the time they spent apart was enough of a punishment for him. Hopefully, one day in the future, they could sit down and have an adult conversation. Until then, Stiles was not particularly interested in interacting with Scott at all. He wanted time to be without him. 

Scott appeared miffed that he couldn’t walk back into Stiles’ home, back into his life. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about the Alpha pack.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, brow furrowing. He could feel Derek come up behind him, prying open the door just wide enough for both of their faces to fit. 

Scott’s eyes flickered from Stiles to Derek and back, looking at the two of them in a new light. “So this is new,” Scott said, tension visible in his jaw. “Never pegged you for dating assholes.”

This statement alone made Stiles want to punch Scott, or hex him, or something. He held back, taking a deep breath and reaching back for Derek’s hand. “Say your piece, Scott. I really do not need you coming to my house to say rude things about my boyfriend or our relationship.”

“Relationship? I can’t —” Scott broke off, smart enough to see the danger of continuing along that line of thought. 

“I just wanted to let you know that the Alpha’s approached me and offered me a spot in their pack if I killed Derek. I said no,” Scott said, crossing his arms over his chest, looking between the two of them. 

Derek growled softly, squeezing Stiles’ hand. 

“And why didn’t you accept? You hate Derek, you always have. And you’ve betrayed him countless times,” Stiles said, immensely curious. 

“I have no interest in killing anyone or becoming an Alpha,” Scott said plainly. 

“Thanks for telling us,” Stiles said, nodding as if to dismiss Scott. 

Luckily, he got the clue, walking back down the drive. His retreating back was a comfort for Stiles, knowing that the uncomfortableness and pain that Scott brought was moving away from him. Every time they spoke, it was like the best friend shaped hole in Stiles’ heart was reopened again, torn open and leaving a scar with every new wound. 

He wanted to fix things. He wanted to be friends with Scott again, to have that best friend connection that he valued so much. But, right now, with the way things were, that was not going to happen until Scott had changed. 

Stiles liked the people he was around. The pack were his friends, and he wanted to be with them more than anything. They were his family, or becoming close. And they did far more for Stiles than Scott had over the past year. What had Scott done for him except betray Derek and sell him out for Allison time after time?

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, hands held out awkwardly, as if he was waiting for permission to touch Stiles again. 

Stiles nodded, lightly touching Derek’s hands with his fingertips. “It’s hard, you know? I don’t want to be mean to him, but he hasn’t done a lot for me recently. Except drop that bombshell.” He shook his head, walking towards Derek. He didn’t stop until he thudded against Derek’s chest, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. 

Now that he had permission to hug Derek, he wanted to all the time. Stiles didn’t realize how much he liked physical affection until it was available to him, and now he wanted it. The closeness made him feel happier, and whether that was Derek or the increased serotonin because of physical touch, Stiles didn’t care about the difference. 

“The Alpha pack,” Derek said, sighing. 

The fact that they had offered Scott a place in their pack was a new revelation. That was a big deal, in terms of what their plans were in Beacon Hills. They were not only threatening Derek and the Hale pack, but offering other werewolves the option of killing Derek to join the pack. 

“What does this mean?” Stiles asked, clutching Derek tighter. 

“It means we have to be careful.”

“Wow. State the obvious,” Stiles snarked. Despite his tone, it was obvious that there was worry and fear behind it. How could there not be when an unknown number of Alphas were planning Derek’s demise? 

Stiles pulled back from Derek quickly. “I have to up the runes on your loft. I have to protect you as best as I can,” Stiles said, reaching up to cup Derek’s face. He felt unsure, touching Derek like this, but he wanted to so badly. 

“Okay,” Derek said, leaning in and kissing Stiles softly. “Okay.”

***

Now that the ominous threat of death or eminent demise was upon them, school felt even more ridiculous in comparison. Going to class and learning about parliamentary government was important, but not so much in the face of a looming threat that could kill them all. 

“Can we squeeze in some homework during training today?” Lydia asked Stiles at lunch, tapping her fingernails on the tabletop. “I know that we are probably doing fine, but if the wolves are going to do nightly patrols, we need to make sure they are still passing classes. We can’t leave them stranded,” Lydia reasoned, looking around the table at the rest of the betas. 

Stiles nodded, trying not to show his worry. “I’ve got a new round of runes to strengthen the wards on Derek’s loft. And I’m working on a protective bracelet for him. I was thinking about making something for the rest of the pack, to try and give them an edge.”

“So you’re more magic than you thought?” Lydia asked, raising an eyebrow pointedly. 

“I don’t think so. I keep trying to push boundaries and start on some of the more complicated things, like harnessing my spark to perform levitation or something, but no matter how hard I try it doesn’t work.” Stiles shrugged, looking down at his lunch. “I’m just going to keep working through these books until something prevents me from going any further. Runes seem to be the easiest right now.”

“Hey, Stiles,” Isaac said, getting his attention from across the table. “Can we have a Christmas pack get together at your house? I know it’s early to ask, but…” he trailed off, tucking his arms close to his body as if he was nervous or unsure. 

The thought of a pack Christmas was cute. Decorating a tree, wrapping presents for each of them. It was a really nice idea, to have so much family in one place. 

“That sounds like a good idea, Isaac. I’ll ask Derek if we can host something at the loft,” Stiles said. 

“Ooh, can you be my new mommy?” Erica said, fake pouting at him. 

“Shove off,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. He was more uncomfortable than anything. The mommy jokes were taking things to a level that Stiles wasn’t particularly comfortable with. 

Jackson must have seen this, looking at the way that Stiles had changed his posture. They exchanged a quiet glance, a knowing glance. 

“What, mommy doesn’t like that?” Erica asked, continuing to tease. 

Jackson growled quietly. “Enough, Erica.”

“Oh, what are you going to do, lizard boy?” Erica said, all sharp smiles and wicked teeth. 

“I said enough,” Jackson said sternly, standing. “Do not tease Stiles about being a mom. It’s insensitive considering he lost his own mother. And don’t you dare call me ‘lizard’ again,” Jackson continued, making intense eye contact with Erica. 

He looked as if he was going to storm off, but the ding of a text message interrupted him. His phone went off first, but everyone else’s chimed as well, calling everyone’s attention to their phones. 

_ Come to the loft. Now. _

The ominous text from Derek was just that: ominous. It was strange and out of character for him to send something like that. In the back of Stiles’ mind, alarm bells were going off, and he could feel something wrong in his chest. 

“Do you guys feel that?” Isaac asked, clutching at his chest. “It feels…” 

“Like I can’t breath,” Boyd said, rubbing his sternum, swallowing thickly. 

“We have to get to Derek,” Stiles said, making the decision for everyone. 

With a scenario like this, there was no second guessing. If Derek needed them, and they were feeling something through their pack bonds, then something was going wrong. 

***

The moment they pulled up to the loft Isaac stiffened in Stiles’ passenger seat. “Someone is here,” he said, looking out the windshield and up towards Derek’s windows. 

“Who?” Stiles asked, even though he already sort of knew the answer. 

The Alpha pack. 

They were not prepared to take on the entire pack, not with their lack of protection or training. And, if they were in the loft, it meant that all of the protective runes that Stiles had made were seriously not working, or they were broken. Either way, they were walking into a trap. They knew that at this point. 

“We have to go in,” Stiles said firmly, patting Isaac’s shoulder in a way that he hoped was comforting, 

They gathered, as a pack, at the entrance to the building. With a single nod from Stiles, they entered, piling into the elevator and taking it up to the third floor. To Derek’s floor. 

The sliding doors to the loft were shut, which was no surprise. Derek typically left them shut, no matter that. Even when they were all inside and he owned the whole building, he left them shut. It was habit. 

Jackson silently volunteered himself to open up the doors, walking confidently over to them, despite the fact that they were all tense. The werewolves were especially tense, privy to who was inside of the loft. Stiles and Lydia stood back, not sure what was going on. No one wanted to speak to break the silence. 

The sliding doors slid open easily, to reveal Duke. 

The moment they stepped inside, Stiles gasped and dropped to his knees, his booted foot landing awkwardly on the ground. 

Derek was on all fours in the middle of the loft. Through his body, almost directly where his solar plexus was, a piece of metal pipe was shoved through him. He was kneeling in a puddle of his own blood, gasping for air, body heaving around the pipe. 

“Go,” Derek said hoarsely, spitting blood onto the floor. “Get out.”

“We can’t leave you,” Jackson said, stepping forward to help Stiles up. 

Between seeing Duke again and seeing Derek with a pipe through his chest, Stiles wasn’t sure how he could stand. His heart was hammering on the verge of a panic attack, and the sight of Duke was bringing back memories of his own torture. He couldn’t close his eyes against the memories, not like what he did when he was alone. He had to face them head on with the person who was the cause of his broken leg and the fresh scars on his chest. 

“Look at your pack, Derek,” Duke said, crouching down in front of Derek. “A bunch of meager teenagers, no life experience or know how. Somehow, that feels fitting for who you are.”

The betas remained silent, unsure of what to do. 

Stiles felt breathless and at a complete loss for words. He wanted to scream at Duke for doing this to Derek and scarring him for life, but his voice felt gone. Ripped from his chest. He wanted so badly to run to Derek, pull the pipe out so that he could heal and be okay again. None of these things were an option. He was frozen to his spot. 

“Now that I have your attention, I am going to set the terms for my game,” Duke said, standing and clasping his hands together in front of him, much like an evil villain. 

“There are four betas. One of you is going to kill Derek, and the rest of the betas, by next Monday. If you fail to do so, then we as the Alpha pack will pick you off, one by one, until there are none of you left,” Duke said, smiling maliciously. “Until then, we are going to be on our way.” 

In some sort of silent gesture, Duke walked around the group of teenagers, three other Alpha’s following suit. Stiles recognized Kali from being tortured, but the other two were unfamiliar. One was a muscular man who was taller than all of them by at least a few inches. The other was a sleek woman, small but compact. She flicked her fiery red hair as she passed Lydia, almost as if challenging her. 

Then, out of the shadows, came Peter. He glanced at the betas and his nephew, smiling coldly at them. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always, nephew.” He nodded to the pack, winking at Stiles, and joined the Alpha pack at the sliding doors behind them. 

“Peter? You’re betraying Derek?” Stiles asked, spinning around to look at where they were retreating. 

“I killed my niece to gain Alpha powers. You think I wouldn’t kill a different Alpha to get those back?” Peter asked, flashing his eyes at Stiles. They were bright red. 

It took a few moments, but Stiles put the pieces together quickly. “The Alpha we found dead in the preserve.”

“Too easy. I should have held out for a challenge,” Peter said. He smiled once again before following Duke and the other Alphas out the door, the group of them disappearing down the stairs. 

Once they were well away, the betas moved quickly to Derek, Stiles staying close but behind them. 

“We have to take the pipe out,” Jackson said, looking down at where it was shoved through Derek’s body. He grabbed the top of it, looking to the other betas. “Hold him down.”

When he pulled, it looked as if there was resistance. It slid out so slowly at first, and then all at once. When it was totally removed, Jackson tossed it as far away as possible, the pipe clanging loudly against the floor where it landed. 

“Derek,” Stiles breathed, rushing in now. He helped Derek lay flat on his back, touching him everywhere but the gaping hole in his chest. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay,” Stiles said, hands hovering over him. 

“Fine,” Derek said quickly, taking a hitched breath. He reached up and snagged both of Stiles’ hands in one of his own, holding them still and preventing him from fretting about. Instead of saying anything more, he brought Stiles’ knuckles to his mouth, kissing them. 

“I love you,” Stiles said in a rush, tears coming to his eyes. “Fuck, I hate Duke and I am going to kill him, but I love you so much.”

Derek smiled easily, closing his eyes against the pain. “Love you too,” he whispered, his words barely audible. 

Stiles heaved a sob, clutching at Derek’s hand. 

This day went from being so slow to all at once, the pace of his life speeding up faster than anticipated. While the days were ever present and the promise of tomorrow continually loomed on the horizon, this rapid deterioration of their lives was becoming more pronounced. 

His heart beat impossibly quickly at the combination of things that had occurred since they stepped foot into the loft. Seeing Duke in the loft, in his safe space, was enough to send him reeling. Seeing Derek hurt in such a graphic manner made his heart ache, and seeing that Peter betrayed him was the final nail in the coffin. 

He wanted so badly to be in control, to be strong for the pack, but he couldn’t. He let himself cry, holding onto Derek and hoping for the better. He pushed all of his love and his hopes for Derek healing through his hands and into Derek, hoping that some of his spark was enough to grant him a wish like this. He thought positive thoughts, pushing everything he could through his hands and into Derek. 

“Stiles, are you doing that?” Lydia asked, looking over his shoulder. 

Stiles looked at Derek’s chest where the gaping wound was closing at a rapid rate, much faster than werewolf, or even Alpha, healing. 

“I think I am,” Stiles said, looking down at Derek’s surprised face. 

That was the last thing he saw before he passed out. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you plan for imminent disaster?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Thank you SO MUCH for all the support. Every comment is really appreciated. Did y'all like that twist or what? Please keep leaving me comments! I truly do read them, even if I don't reply!
> 
> This is kind of another filler chapter. Sorry. That's why I'm posting it now, instead of making y'all wait any longer. 
> 
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The whole ‘waking up in unknown places’ thing was kind of getting old. This was like the third time in as many months, and that was really not cool. 

But, this time, Stiles at least recognized where he was after a few moments. It took some blinking and some concentrating, but he was staring up at the loft ceiling, the room fairly dark. 

The last thing he remembered was leaning over Derek, trying to heal him and pointedly ignoring the gaping hole in his chest. Now, it was clearly dark outside, and Stiles was laying in Derek’s bed, feeling exhausted to the bone. 

He quickly assessed his body, (which, by the way, is something that he really never thought he’d have to do so regularly), and determined that besides feeling sore and exhausted, there was nothing wrong. He still had the boot on his foot for his broken ankle, but that's another ordeal.

“He’s awake,” Derek murmured, leaning over Stiles. His face was concerned, and he didn’t have a hole in his chest anymore. Huh. 

“What happened?” Stiles asked blearily, pushing himself up onto his elbows. 

He looked around the loft, surprised to see that the whole pack was still there, all eyes turned towards him. Rather than being comforting, it was vaguely creepy. Stiles was very much not into having everyone staring at him. It unnerved him, as if he did something that he wasn’t supposed to do. 

“You tried healing Derek and passed out,” Lydia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “He healed great, but you seemed to use too much magic and passed out. We had to stay and watch over you.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” Stiles said, frowning. 

“You’re pack, Stiles. We had to stay,” Jackson said, as if he was stating the obvious. “Plus, Derek had to buy us takeout.”

Derek sat next to Stiles on his bed, hovering but not touching. It was his way of asking permission, and the way that both of them had been approaching the physical side of their relationship. Instead of leaving him hanging, Stiles sat up fully, leaning into where Derek was sitting. 

There was a heavy silence in the loft. 

“What are we going to do?” Stiles asked softly, knowing that they all could hear him. “Between the Alpha pack, Peter’s betrayal, what are we going to do?”

This clearly hit a nerve with Derek, who tensed at his side. 

He couldn’t imagine what sorts of emotions were swirling around in Derek’s head. In the last few hours he had realized that his last remaining relative had betrayed him and felt no remorse for killing Laura, and had a pipe shoved through his chest for who knows how long. If anyone needed comforting here, it was Derek. He was the one having a significantly harder time right now. 

“We’re going to make a plan for when they show up again. Something distinct and clear so that we can all follow through,” Jackson said, looking over at the other betas. “I’ve got some ideas, but I’ll need help.”

The other betas nodded at him in understanding. There was a camaraderie that was building between the betas in the pack. Together, they were realizing that they had to pull their own weight, despite whatever issues they had. The only way that they could be successful was as a team, a family. 

“Be careful,” Derek said. His words held some sort of silent dismissal, because the betas filed out of the loft, silent. 

Once they were gone, Derek let himself relax in his own bed, pulling Stiles down onto his chest. He held him tight, like he always did, as if at any moment Stiles was going to be ripped away from him. Stiles let himself be held tightly, knowing that Derek needed it, and needed him. So much had been ripped away from Derek that he succumbed to this behavior every time. Plus, he liked being held as if he was important. 

“Are you okay?” Stiles whispered, tracing his fingers along Derek’s chest where he swore the pipe had gone through. He couldn’t ever be sure, because it felt like Derek’s normal chest. 

“Shocked, but fine,” Derek said quietly. His arms loosened their grip minutely, slowly relaxing into a more comfortable position. His fingers began tracing along Stiles’ back, and after a moment, Stiles realized they were tracing his scars. 

Stiles sat up quickly. “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Touching my scars like that,” Stiles asked, looking down at Derek. Nothing seemed amiss in his face, and he even seemed confused by this line of questioning. 

Derek didn’t say anything, his eyes scanning Stiles’ face. He seemed to not have anything to say, which was not unusual of Derek. His face seemed to say much more as it flicked between emotions, moving from confused to concerned to vaguely guilty. 

“Are you— are you trying to torture yourself more? By touching my scars, reminding yourself of that night? Because that was not a good night for either of us,” Stiles said, wanting to put distance between the two of them, wanting Derek’s hands off of him. He didn’t want to be touched under some sort of guilt complex. 

Stiles stood and moved off of the bed, fighting the tired ache in his bones. He sat at the far corner, away from Derek. His body hurt and his leg was aching, but he didn’t want to leave. Not when the comfort from Derek was the one thing making him feel better. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, voice desperate. He let out a small noise of want, sounding both sad and distressed.

Leaving him when he needed comfort was the last thing Stiles wanted to do, but he couldn’t let Derek push himself further into a hole with his own scars and proof of anguish. It wasn’t fair for either of them. 

“I wish I was there to save you,” Derek admitted. 

Stiles turned to look at him, Derek’s soft face and beautifully sad eyes. He always looked beautiful, no matter what emotion was expressed on his face. 

“But you weren’t. And that’s okay,” Stiles said, crawling across the bed towards Derek, letting himself be caught up in his arms again. “I’m a stronger person because of it, even as I work through nightmares. I have to think positively and towards the future, otherwise I’ll be caught in the past,” Stiles added, laying himself back over Derek’s chest. 

Derek tucked his face into Stiles’ neck, hands coming to rest low on Stiles’ hips, far away from any scars. “I forget how human you are sometimes,” Derek murmured, fingers dipping under Stiles’ shirt to touch skin. “You do so much for me, and I forget that it costs you more.”

“But I choose to do those things, because I want to help those I love,” Stiles said, relaxing into the heat of Derek’s body. 

“So you do love me.”

Stiles pulled his head back to look at Derek sincerely. “I love you. I know it’s early, and I should be more insecure about this whole thing, but I do. It’s hard to imagine a world where we didn’t know each other at this point.”

Derek smiled brightly up at him, eyes alight with intensity. “I meant it too. I love you.”

They kissed hard, passionately. Derek’s hands gripped Stiles’ waist, and the touch of his fingers on bare skin was unbearably hot. Stiles melted into every touch, letting himself run his fingers along Derek’s jawline and along his shoulders. He wanted so much. 

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Stiles let his head drop down onto Derek’s shoulder. “I would really love to do more, but I’m exhausted,” Stiles said quietly, closing his eyes sleepily. 

“Just sleep,” Derek murmured back, running his hands up and down Stiles’ spine. The motion was soothing, relaxing, to a point where Stiles fell asleep easy. It was the fastest he had fallen asleep in months. 

***

Waking up in Derek’s arms would probably never get old. Feeling the strength of his body and the warmth pressed against him was soothing. Looking at his slack jawed face, looking so much younger than when he was awake, was always a treat. 

Knowing that the Alpha pack was ready to unleash doom onto the Hale pack was something that got old very quickly. 

Stiles had the scars to prove it. 

He let himself enjoy the company of Derek’s body for a few minutes before getting up to pee and check his phone. He already knew he most likely had texts or missed calls from his dad, considering everything that happened yesterday. There was not going to be a big search party, but he really needed to tell his dad where he was. It was important for the health of their relationship, and to ensure that Stiles wasn’t grounded for the rest of his mortal life. 

After checking the two missed calls, Stiles quickly dialed his father, sitting on the edge of the toilet in the bathroom, waiting for him to pick up. A moment passed, and his father was answering the phone in a rush. 

“Hey dad,” Stiles said casually, as if nothing was wrong. 

“You better have a good explanation for why you were gone all night,” John said sternly. Despite this facade, he was not actually angry. More relieved that Stiles was safe and not kidnapped. 

“Well, it all started with Derek getting a pole shoved through his chest,” Stiles said, letting himself trail off. He wanted to leave out the aftermath, and the cuddling that had occurred that night while they were falling asleep in each other’s arms. Those details, while incredible memories, were not things that his father needed to know. 

“A pole? Shoved through his chest?” John asked, sounding skeptical. 

“He’s fine now, dad. I used some of my spark to help him heal, and combined with his werewolf healing, he’s totally fine. It’s as if it didn’t happen.” Stiles picked at a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt, trying to downplay the events for both his father’s and his own sanity. 

“Who even did that to him?” John asked, still sounding concerned. 

It was almost as if John was starting to care about Derek. 

“The Alpha pack, which includes Peter now. He resurrects from the dead, only to betray his only living relative,” Stiles said, letting himself shudder at the thought. 

Peter was creepy on his own; between manipulating Lydia and killing Laura, he was a decidedly Not Good person. Now that he had betrayed Derek, he was a dead man walking in Stiles’ eyes. 

“Well, damn,” John said. It seemed as if he was at a loss for words. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said absently. 

He picked at the hem of his shirt, waiting for his father to say something more. To ground him, or want him home and protected. 

“Derek needs you,” he said plainly. 

Stiles nodded, even though his father couldn’t see him. “He needs me. I need him, too. Don’t say we’re too codependent already, it’s not that bad.”

John made a noise in disagreement. “When you fall, you fall hard, Stiles. I know there’s no changing your mind about him. But he seems to be doing good things for you, so I can’t complain too much.”

“I’m going to hang around and help make new wards protecting Derek’s loft. I’ll come home later tonight,” Stiles said, knowing that coming home was equally as important as staying to comfort and help Derek. 

“Just let me know. I’m working tonight,” John said. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too, son.”

After hanging up, Stiles sat silently on the toilet, looking down at his phone. Moments like these, where he was conscious of his own mortality and how little time he had with each person in his life, they left him stunned. He was completely speechless in the face of his own impending doom, and to see how permanent death was, and how it was knocking on his front door, was a struggle to deal with. 

He wanted so much to pretend that everything was okay when he was with Derek. He could walk up to him and melt into his arms, and suddenly the problems they were facing slipped away. Nothing could hurt him as long as Derek loved him and protected him.

But that was flawed thinking in itself. Wolves had hurt him, and Derek was not this invincible, perfect being who could swoop in and save the day. That was proven before in the pool, and it was proven again and again now. Derek was vulnerable and needed just as much protection as Stiles did, just in different ways. Stiles wanted to protect him. 

When he walked back out into the main loft space, Derek was sitting up in bed, watching him cross the room with sleepy eyes. “Come back,” he said, voice gruff. 

“You wish,” Stiles said. Even though he was trying to maintain a neutral expression, he couldn’t in front of Derek. A smile stretched across his face at the sight of him, and looking at Derek made everything else feel so small. He could forget with Derek. 

“Won’t let you go,” Derek said, waiting until Stiles was within arms reach before grabbing at him playfully, pulling him onto the bed and holding him down. Derek held on tight, pressing kisses along Stiles’ neck, trailing slowly towards his mouth. 

“Possessive much?” Stiles teased. At the same time he clutched Derek back, just as desperate. 

It felt nice to keep things light, to not have everything tainted by the awful experiences that had plagued them over the past year and a half. It made Stiles wonder what it would be like if he and Derek had met in a normal way, like in a college classroom or grabbing the same item at a grocery store. What if they had a romcom beginning?

“Thinking?” Derek asked, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ temple. 

“Wondering what it would be like if we were normal,” Stiles answered honestly, grabbing at Derek’s shoulders. 

Derek pulled back, looking down at him. “Do you want me to be normal?” he asked. His face immediately became closed off, his body becoming more tense by the second. 

“No!” Stiles said quickly, in an attempt to reassure him. “No, I like the way you are now. I just wonder if we will ever live a life without danger.”

“Someday,” Derek said, relaxing. He slid his hands underneath Stiles’ shirt, palms hot against his bare stomach. 

He leaned down and kissed Stiles, capturing his lips. He kissed him softly, tenderly, as if the moment was going to be ripped away from them. Stiles matched his pace, reaching up to stroke his fingers along the nape of Derek’s neck. He threaded his fingers through Derek’s hair, gripping it to hold him in place and— 

“Stop,” Derek said quickly, pulling away. He moved so that they were not touching at all, hands tucked into his lap. He was looking down and away, avoiding any eye contact with Stiles. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Stiles asked, voice small. He did not want to screw anything up, not when things were going so smoothly between them. They had fallen into each other so easily that the thought of them suddenly not being  _ them _ was too much to process. Or, Stiles was overreacting and really needed to listen to Derek. 

“ _ She _ did that,” Derek said, shifting. 

She?  _ Oh _ . Kate did that. 

She was one thing that Stiles wishes he could erase from Derek’s history. Her predatory actions towards Derek and the murdering of his whole family was downright evil, and despite the fact that she was dead, he wanted to erase her from existence. He wished that her actions had not affected Derek in the ways that they had, and that he could live without the guilt of ever interacting with her. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said genuinely, moving to sit next to Derek. He was careful not to touch him, giving him plenty of space. The last thing he wanted was to affect Derek any more. 

“It’s nothing you need to apologize for,” Derek said, glancing quickly over at Stiles. 

“I should ask before I touch you. Be more careful,” Stiles said, biting his lip. “We both have issues that are not easily resolved, and being together is going to be hard, but we can make it easier for each other. I can talk more, if only to make sure you are as comfortable as possible,” Stiles added, wanting to cover his bases. 

They were a really fucked up pair. 

“That sounds nice,” Derek said, leaning over to bump his shoulder into Stiles’. 

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, hopeful. 

“Yeah,” Derek said, reaching across the two of them to grab Stiles’ hand. He held it in his own, thumb stroking across the back of his hand in a comforting way. 

***

After school training became more combat based, working every weeknight.. They only had a few days until the deadline. They had been fortunate enough to be given a little over a week to train, but that was not enough time. 

The Alphas were not going to strike while they were all gathered at Derek’s loft, and they were definitely not going to do anything while everyone was in school. Once school was out, it left the pack separated across the town, each in their own houses. They would be much better individual targets. 

If the Alpha pack decided to wait at all. 

Duke was theoretically a man of his word. If so, he was going to strike on Monday. 

That meant that they had to work together as best as possible in the situation that they were in, which left little error and a lot to do. 

Stiles and Lydia made quick work of some protective charm bracelets, ones that would hopefully aide them in their impending battle. They customized it with qualities for each of the betas: Jackson got speed; Isaac got courage; Boyd got stamina; and Erica got strength. 

They were designed to give them an edge to at least make the fight fair against an Alpha. 

Stiles even practiced his work with mountain ash, particularly throwing it into a circle. If they could somehow trap the Alpha’s into a circle of it, they could negotiate or at least have the upper hand. 

The thing was, they still need a strong plan. 

“Here’s my plan,” Jackson said on Friday, presumably the last training session before their Monday deadline. 

He laid it out clearly as this:

They would attract the attention of the Alpha pack. Presuming that they were watching them closely, one of the betas would need to act alone and make their way to Derek’s loft. It couldn’t be Isaac, since he lived there already. Boyd volunteered himself, since he was the most capable of taking care of himself in case something went wrong. 

The attracting attention part was muddled under the assumption that the pack was already watching, but if need be they could make a more loud and open gesture as Boyd traveled to the loft. 

The rest of the pack would be waiting nearby. Jackson had already scouted a good area to hide out in, and with a little bit of magic, they should be nearly undetectable. This relied on Stiles’ ability to mask their scents through a set of runes and a little bit of herb magic, but that was not the hard part.

Once they had attracted the Alphas, they would rush up into the loft. The ideal plan would be to wait until they had gotten a text from either Derek or Boyd to signal that the Alphas were ready, but they might have to just wait a few minutes and storm in themselves. 

This is where things became complicated. 

Lydia was going to make a few molotov cocktails. Jackson was going to throw them at the Alphas, allowing Boyd and Derek to make their escape. Stiles would throw a ring of mountain ash, capturing the Alphas inside of it. From there, that’s where the plan stopped. 

“What do we do after?” Derek asked, looking at Jackson expectantly.

“I’m not sure. Ideally we would kill them, but I felt unsure about adding that into the plan,” Jackson said. 

After the whole Kanima thing, it was revealed that Jackson did not remember very much of his time as the Kanima, which meant that he didn’t remember killing anyone. But, he had a strong knowledge of the events that went down, and an awareness that he was the one who had physically done the damage. His hesitation to include any sort of murder in their plan was no surprise. 

Derek seemed to think for a moment, eyes unfocused as he got lost in his own thoughts. After several beats of silence, he lifted his head to look at the pack again. “I will kill them when the time comes. I can’t have any of you, and I will not force Lydia or Stiles to either. It’s my responsibility to protect this pack,” Derek said decisively. 

While Stiles really wanted to protest, to say that there was another way they could work things out, he knew that this was the only option. There was not another way to make things work. With everything going on in his head right now, adding murder to his conscious was not good. Lydia had only just gotten over her altercation with Peter, and having him come back couldn't be easy on her. 

None of this could be easy on Derek either. He had his own set of issues, and Stiles knew that something had happened with his high school girlfriend, Paige. He was aware of her and her death, but knew very little about it. There was no way of really knowing what happened without asking, but he knew it was bad. 

Derek was more messed up than any of them, and yet he was willing to take on more to not burden the pack. He was strong, and he would need immense amount of therapy after this. Stiles would see to it. 

“Then it’s settled,” Stiles said decisively. “We enact this plan on Sunday.”

***

Stiles was surprised to see Scott on his doorstep when he got home from the meeting. 

There could be a thousand things that Scott wanted, and most of them were likely to be selfish. Even when he thought he was enacting for the greater good, he was frequently acting out whatever was most beneficial for him. Take the entire Kanima ordeal as evidence. 

“What’s up?” Stiles said casually, getting out of the Jeep. He walked up to the front stoop, still stumbling lightly over his boot.

Scott watched his foot with interest, as if he somehow forgot that Stiles had broken his leg. “I came to ask for forgiveness.”

A burst of laughter escaped from Stiles’ chest. It was wildly inappropriate, yet he couldn’t help but laugh in the face of Scott’s sudden forgiveness. He still wasn’t sure that Scott understood the extent of his wrongdoing. 

“I’m being serious, Stiles,” Scott said, frowning at him. 

“I know,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “I’m just not sure you know why you have to ask in the first place.”

Scott frowned even further, his hands tensing into fists at his sides. “I hurt you, and I need to apologize for that.”

“Do you even know? What Gerard did?” Stiles asked, twirling his keys around one finger. 

“Be Allison’s grandfather? Be generally evil?” Scott asked in confusion. 

His lack of knowledge was laughable. “He tortured me, Scott. He kept me, and Erica and Boyd, in his basement. He whipped me, cut me up, and hit my face a lot. He was keeping them on electricity. He was impossibly evil,” Stiles said. Despite the growing cold, Stiles stripped off his flannel and his shirt, revealing his bare chest to Scott. 

Scott seemed surprised at this, but even more surprised at the two sets of scars on Stiles’ chest. Before he could really focus on them, Stiles turned and showed him his back, the whip scars evident. 

“I have a permanent reminder on my skin of what he did, Scott. I have these on my back, and a thin scar on my front from where he sliced my chest open with a knife,” Stile said, giving him a few seconds to look before he put his shirts back on. 

“Why are you showing me that?” Scott asked, his voice small. 

“Because instead of wondering where your best friend went after the lacrosse game, you decided to argue with Derek and Peter. Because instead of checking up with me in the weeks following, you were rekindling your relationship with Allison. We hung out over the summer, but not once did you ask me what happened that night, and why I had bruises all over my face.”

“But you said that the other team had gotten to you,” Scott said.

This time, Stiles let out a huff of a laugh. “You really are a shitty werewolf, Scott, if you didn’t realize I was lying my ass off.”

This made Scott pause. There was a hesitation now, as he had realized the severity of his mistake. He had blatantly ignored any warning signs in favor of himself. 

“Oh,” Scott said, finally realizing what he had done wrong. 

“You ignored me for months, and you were so wrapped up in Allison you didn’t realize that life was moving on without you. I’ve found a place in Derek’s pack, and I  _ love _ him. I’ve fallen in love, and you’ve been so distracted you couldn’t even be there. I thought we were best friends, but I’ve realized that I was just the most convenient option. Because, Scott McCall, you are an asshole,” Stiles said, happy to have finally said this aloud to him. 

He went to move past Scott, but he stepped in the way of the front door. He was disallowing Stiles to go inside of his own home. 

“I’m not done here,” Scott said, moving to grab Stiles. 

“Don’t touch me,” Stiles said sternly. “We’re done. Unless you want to have an entire personality makeover and join Derek’s pack as a beta, as bottom of the pack, then we’re done. I’ve made a life for myself, Scott, and you’re not going to ruin it,” Stiles added, pushing past him. 

Once he was inside, he locked the door behind himself. He was not going to continue to argue with Scott, not as long as Scott was unwilling to acknowledge his own wrongdoings. He wanted Scott to stew with the things he said and really think over his life decisions. He wanted Scott to understand the gravity of his actions, and the fact that things will never be the same because of him. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos so far. We are so close to being done!
> 
> I will most likely post the next chapter as soon as possible. I promise it's just resolution from here on out. 
> 
> As clarification for the last chapter: I personally hate Scott as a character, and think that his decisions within the show are frequently disruptive/destructive. That being said, that is part of the reason why Stiles is so mean to Scott in the last chapter. He wants to hold him accountable for his actions, and wants to make sure that Scott understands before any type of forgiveness occurs. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the final battle!
> 
> Links:  
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Saturday morning, Stiles went over to Derek’s. They had plans to cook breakfast together and try to not freak out about the impending plan they had in place. Between the stress of the Alpha pack and the newness of their relationship (and Stiles learning a lot of magic that he did not know before), there was a lot of tension. 

It was foolish to hope that a nice breakfast and a few hours cuddling would do anything to help them, but Stiles was trying to maintain hope. He wanted things to go well, and he wanted to keep everyone safe. He hated the feeling that things were out of his control. 

“Thinking?” Derek asked from the stovetop, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said in response, not wanting to really say what was going on inside of his head. 

“About?” Derek prompted. 

“Scott. The Alphas,” Stiles said, closing his eyes. “I was so mean to Scott, and it felt so good to tell him everything on my mind, I should have heard him out more. He was still so unaware of what he did wrong, but I never gave him a chance to apologize correctly.” 

Derek was quiet. When Stiles had relayed the whole situation, he had been very supportive, but deep down there was still tension between Derek and Scott. There was this deep hurt that stemmed from Scott’s inability to take responsibility for his actions. Anything Derek had been doing he had thoroughly apologized for and spent the last summer making sure that everyone was okay. 

And now the Alphas were here, and Scott didn’t even understand how dangerous it was for everyone. He was still living in his packless fantasy, but maybe the conversation with Stiles would get him to understand the severity of the situation. 

“The Alphas,” Stiles muttered, trying not to let all of the worry and frustration escape from his head.

He could talk to Derek. He frequently said much more than he ever intended to. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t want Derek to see anything going on in his head. He wanted to make sure he could protect Derek from his own brand of overthinking and anxiety. He knew they had more than enough issues to go around between the two of them. Last thing he needed was to burden Derek any further. 

“I can feel your worry from here,” Derek said, focusing on scrambling up eggs for them. He wasn’t even looking at Stiles.

“I’m not trying to emanate stressed vibes,” Stiles said, looking down at himself as if there would be physical evidence. 

“Relax a little bit. We can’t both be on edge,” Derek said. 

“Why can’t we both be? It’s our pack that is in danger. I can’t let you get hurt, and I certainly can’t let any of the betas get hurt,” Stiles said, feeling frustrated with his own lack of power. 

“Well, I think that we can take care of our pack pretty well,” Derek said, pulling the pan off of the heat. He looked over at Stiles, a small grin on the corner of his lips. 

“Why are you smiling? I’m talking about death and destruction here!” Stiles said, exasperated. 

Derek shook his head a little bit, looking down in embarrassment. “You just said ‘our pack’.” 

Of course that would be what Derek focused on. Not the danger, or the pain, but the fact that he referred to the pack as theirs, as if it was something they took care of together. 

Those feelings of caring and protection had been brewing since shortly after he had joined the pack, but had only intensified after he had been kidnapped. The pack was his to protect, and even when he couldn’t protect himself, it was still his job to do whatever was best for his pack. He couldn’t help but feel that way. He knew that Derek was happy about that. 

“Thanks for focusing on the least important part of that sentiment,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes playfully. He was annoyed, but not enough to take it out on Derek. Only enough to take it out on himself. 

He kind of wanted Derek to acknowledge the danger they were in, but at the same time his own growth to acknowledge the positive part of that statement was better. It meant that they were moving on as people, which meant that the horrors of their past could possibly slip away into distant memories. That was what Stiles hoped for, at least.

Stiles couldn’t help but feel a swell of feelings in his chest with the thoughts of their impending doom. “If all goes wrong tomorrow, and we’re doomed after all, remember that I love you,” Stiles said sincerely, laying all of his feelings out. 

“I love you too,” Derek said softly, smiling at Stiles. 

There was a quiet moment, the two of them looking fondly at each other. To both of them, this type of relationship was totally new. Neither was particularly ashamed at the outpouring of emotions because they both craved an honest and loving relationship. 

There was a loud ripping noise, as if metal was being shredded downstairs in one of the floors below. The sound immediately changed the mood from caring to fear, knowing that in all likelihood, it was the Alpha pack. 

“Not one of ours?” Stiles asked, already knowing the answer. He tried his best to feel the pack bonds deep in his chest, only getting a slight sensation. He could barely feel each of the pack members, but he knew enough to recognize that none of them were downstairs. 

“It has to be them,” Derek said, moving out of the kitchen and into the main living quarters, leaving their breakfast. He was tense all over, clearly displeased at this situation. The last time the Alpha pack had cornered him in the loft, he had a pipe shoved in his chest. 

“We are seriously underprepared for this specific scenario,” Stiles muttered, pulling his phone over and sending out an SOS text to the entire pack. 

The sounds of the Alphas tearing through metal machinery and walls echoed up to the third floor, a loud noise that none of them could prevent. It was a slow, tense, impending doom. 

If the pack responded immediately, then they would all convene in about ten minutes, but the Alpha pack was advancing fast. They would be up in Derek’s loft in a matter of seconds. There was no way they could stall for that long. 

“The protection runes? How much will that stall them?” Derek asked, looking over at Stiles a little desperately. 

They had been adjusted and strengthened since last time, but most protection runes took years of effort and magic to strengthen them completely. “They won’t prevent the pack from coming in, but they will deter them from entering and hopefully cloud their brains a little bit as long as they are inside. It’s probably why they’re spending so much time down there instead of making a beeline up here,” Stiles said, looking at the wards. 

He rushed over to the closest one, running his fingers along the set of runes. The runes lit up under his fingertips, causing the others to emit a bright blue light. “I pushed a little bit more into them, but that won’t hold for very long. I’m not strong enough yet,” Stiles said a little desperately, looking over at Derek hopelessly. 

“We stick to the plan. Jackson will know what to do with the betas, and we can hold off for as long as possible here,” Derek said, his claws flicking out of his fingertips. 

“If they break my leg again, I’m going to be so pissed,” Stiles muttered, going to a low cabinet in the kitchen to retrieve his stash of mountain ash. 

The few minutes it took for the Alpha pack to finally make their way up to the loft felt like hours, with each crash and cheer from the Alphas unnerving. At any moment they would come flying into the loft, and neither Derek nor Stiles really, truly, knew what they were going to do. 

“Can you feel Jackson coming yet?” Stiles asked Derek, looking over at him with hope in his eyes. 

Derek paused, concentrating on the bonds. “He’s not panicked like the others, but he’s far enough away that I can’t feel him as well as you.” As if conscious of the bonds, a little pulse of love and affection moved through their bond they had, which was somewhat of a relief to Stiles. 

“I’m not going to let them hurt you,” Stiles said firmly. He was sure this was a fact. 

“I’d do anything before letting them hurt you,” Derek replied, voice just as firm and sure. 

There was a slow clap from the doorway, Duke leaning against the door jamb casually. “Ah, a competition to see who is more self sacrificing and in love with the other. I never pegged you as sappy, Derek Hale.”

Neither of them said anything in response. Ignoring Duke was better than playing into his games. At least, at first it was better. If they didn’t give him something, he would become malicious. 

“I never anticipated that either of you would get to this point. Way back when, I kidnapped Stiles thinking that he was the loud talking mouthpiece, but now I realize he means so much to this pack. Does he know he’s your emissary?” Duke asked, striding across the room. 

They felt powerless under his gaze, knowing that at any moment he could act. He still could kill them in a flash, even if they were fighting back. He had so much more power at his fingertips, ready to dispense. 

“If we’re going to toy with them, let me rough them up a bit,” Kali said, prowling into the room. The other Alphas followed her, but none had the sleek, animalistic aspects that she did. 

Her feet were bare, claws extending from her toes and clacking on the floor. In a strike blindingly fast, she had kicked across Stiles’ chest, tearing part of his shirt and clawing the skin underneath. It was hot and fast, leaving him gasping. 

Derek’s eyes flashed red. “Don’t do that to him.”

“Fuck, you’re pathetic,” Kali said, grinning wickedly. “One little strike to your boy over here, and you get all protective. You probably didn’t like what Duke did last time.”

Thankfully, Derek chose to stay silent about this subject. Even if he wanted to tear Duke a new one about the torture and the subsequent nightmares and panic, there was no point. They were trying to rile him up, and Derek was doing a great job of holding back as much as possible. 

Peter, being one of the Alphas tucked into the back of the group, looked between Derek and Stiles, grinning. He was such a smug asshole, and his evil side was bleeding through. 

If Stiles wasn’t in so much unwarranted pain, he would have been sassing back to the group. As it was, he had to stay alive long enough to throw the mountain ash ring, and he had to time it perfectly. The Alphas were not close enough together, and they were far too close to Derek. They needed some space and distance for this to work, which truly wasn’t happening. 

“Peter, do you want to do the honors of telling your nephew what’s going to happen next?” Duke asked, looking back to him. 

He stepped forward, his v-neck stupidly low cut, revealing an amount of man cleavage that was not desirable. He looked at Stiles as if he wanted to eat him, which meant both kinds of eating. It brought out a little bit of jealousy in Derek, if the flash of red eyes and a small growl meant anything. 

“Stiles, delicious looking as ever,” Peter said, smirking at him. His creepy ways were undeniable. 

“Asshole,” Stiles greeted, tipping an imaginary cap.

“Nephew, I see you are trying to find your way back to normal. I didn’t realize you needed a teenage boy with issues for that. Never pegged you as swinging both ways,” Peter said, nodding at Derek. 

“Why are you here,” Derek said flatly. 

“So feisty,” Peter commented, smirking at them. “We are here because your pathetic pack took too long to decide, so we are deciding for you. When your betas inevitably arrive, because I assume you called upon them, we are going to select one for the Alpha pack and force the situation. I think that Jackson boy is just egotistical enough to cut it.”

Stiles and Derek remained silent. This was the hardest part, not to talk and argue with Peter. This was not how things were supposed to go, and their plan was supposed to go down tomorrow. With very little communication and preparation, it was going to have to go down today. 

“What happens if they all refuse?” Derek asked. Despite their reluctance to talk and rile up the Alphas, they had to stall for time. This question was one that needed answering, so it was a two birds one stone scenario. They needed answers and time.

“Scott seems like a suitable substitute if necessary,” Peter said flippantly, waving his hand as if brushing off the question. 

That was more alarming than anything. The idea that they would find any and all ways to completely desecrate the pack meant that one group was going to be dead by the end of the day. 

Stiles was certain it wasn’t going to be him. 

With his cell phone in his hoodie pocket, he quickly texted Scott with a preciseness that could only happen after years of practice. 

SOS BRNG ALI LOFT 

He hoped that it was enough, and that maybe with the added power of Scott and Allison, they could make it through. 

Their original plan had a level of negotiation built into it before actual fighting. They never truly discussed what would happen if all of the Alphas needed to be taken out. Only if a few. This was a whole new ball game. 

“Texting someone?” Duke asked, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. 

“What if I am?” Stiles responded. He was the only human in a room full of werewolves. Of course they could hear exactly what he was doing, and there was no point in lying. 

Something must have happened outside, because a faint pulse of pack moved through their pack ties, signalling that someone was outside. Stiles couldn’t tell which beta, but Derek most likely could. They only needed to stall a little bit longer before gametime. 

“Those pathetic betas are going to regret coming to the rescue when faced with our decision,” Kali growled with feral energy. 

Stiles and Derek looked at each other, meaningfully, knowing that it was do or die time. It might be the last time they could look at each other like that, and neither wanted to give up this moment. 

“Now,” Derek whispered, giving a slight nod. 

With his left hand, Stiles threw out a fistful of mountain ash, believing in his heart  _ circle, circle, circle _ , and watching the ash float down into a circle—

But the Alphas noticed at the last second, Peter and Duke dodging out of the way. The mountain ash captured Kali and the other two Alphas, trapping them inside. 

This was not a part of the plan. 

“Shit!” Stiles exclaimed, searching in his pocket for more mountain ash. He had only hidden a certain amount to not tip off the Alphas, and yet here he was, without enough to make a second circle for Duke and Peter. He scrambled in his pocket, but it wasn’t enough. Not even with the small amount of magic he had. 

“Well, Stiles. I guess the magic thing isn’t really working out for you,” Duke said, smirking in his gross, creepy way. He was seriously giving off way worse vibes the more evil he got, which supported his insanity for wanting to destroy everything. 

“Leave him alone,” Derek said, stepping in front of Stiles. 

The pack had to be close. It wouldn’t get down to a fight, not the way things were going. 

“Peter?” Duke said, gesturing vaguely. 

Nodding, Peter grabbed a pillow off the couch, tossing it towards the floor where the mountain ash ring was. In one throw, the pillow skidded across the mountain ash, disrupting the circle. It freed the Alphas again. 

The one shot they had, and it was totally screwed up. 

“It’s so cute how you think that you can stop us,” Duke said, raising his eyebrows. “You have your little pack tromping up here right now, and they have no idea what they’re going to face.”

That moment, the pack burst into the loft, all of them shifted and ready for a fight. 

Very easily, the other four Alpha’s grabbed up the four betas, holding them with claws extended over their necks, ready to kill them in an instant. They all struggled, but none of them were prepared for a bunch of free Alphas. They were all ready to fight some diminished, weakened Alphas. 

“Poor Derek. Loses his whole family, and now is going to lose his pack and his little boyfriend. What a sad, pathetic life of misery and misfortune,” Duke said, fake pouting at him. “You couldn’t even get that McCall kid to join your pack, and now he’s following in your footsteps, dating a Hunter when all that leads to is tragedy,” Duke continued.

He was insufferable. 

At this point, plans were whirring through Stiles’ head as he attempted to weigh the pros and cons of each. 

He could do something entirely radical like force all of his energy into the loft wards, but that could accidentally kill him and everyone inside. 

He could throw himself at Duke and hope that his training would be sufficient, but at the same time that would lead to death, even if he was fairly confident he could take Duke out with some muttered magic. 

There was also Lydia and potentially Scott and Allison. Where were those three in this scenario? Lydia was nowhere to be found, but the potential of Scott and Allison showing up as backup would at least mean they had the numbers to fight. 

“Times up,” Duke said, as if reading his mind. “The betas must choose who lives and who dies.”

With a growl, Derek shifted, throwing himself at Duke. 

He landed a solid punch to Duke’s face, but a few swipes of claws later, and Derek was heaving, blood pouring from where his chest was ripped open. He went raring back towards Duke, but was knocked away swiftly. 

Duke had a few marks on his face, but he looked much better off than Derek. Their grappling was intense, but now that they had stepped back, it was very clear that Derek was worse off. 

There were far too many options at this point; save Derek, try and beat Duke, somehow protect the pack. All of these things were not necessarily individual of each other, yet all equally important. 

“Which one of you will it be?” Duke asked, wiping blood off of his cheek. When he smiled, there was blood on his teeth, making his grin even more wicked. 

The betas looked at each other desperately, as if attempting to decide whether or not one of them was going to live. Having to choose was sick and sadistic, which was exactly what Duke was aiming for. He wanted them to feel pain and misery. 

For Stiles, there was only one Hail Mary option left. 

He leaped towards Duke, catching him in an embrace and clinging to him with all the strength he had. He started muttering an attack spell, one that would weaken Duke enough to take him out. He caught claws to his side, but he dug his fingers into Duke’s skin and pushed all of his hate and anger into him, feeling the magic surge outwards. 

He knew there was only so much he could do before passing out, so he stumbled off and away from Duke before he could get hurt, collapsing to the floor. 

He passively watched as an arrow flew into Duke’s chest. 

At the doorway was Allison and Lydia, with Scott roaring in. They were taking out each of the other Alphas, with arrows and Molotov cocktails at first, then with claws and knives. They managed to release all of the other betas, with Allison ensuring that the deaths of the Alphas were by her or Lydia’s hands. 

He wanted to get up, join the fight, but he had drained himself of magic and energy. He had nothing left. 

He watched Derek walk over to Duke, looking at where his body was laying on the ground. 

“Well played,” Duke said, his voice raspy. 

“Fuck you,” Derek said in return, slashing his claws across Duke’s throat. 

His death was quick, which was more than he deserved. 

Immediately after Derek had killed him, he rushed over to Stiles, kneeling down next to him. He took Stiles’ face in his hands, holding him carefully. 

“Do not die on me, Stiles. I cannot do this without you,” he said, eyes wild with fear. He looked up at someone else, catching their attention. “Call the sheriff and tell him to meet us at the hospital. I’m taking Stiles there immediately.”

Derek scooped up Stiles into his arms, holding him tight. “Lydia, Jackson, Stay with Allison and Scott and wait for Chris. He’ll know what to do with the bodies.”

The jostling movement of Derek’s walking was too jarring for Stiles’ brain, and he quickly passed out after that. He was exhausted, deep in his bones. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!   
> Thank you SO SO much for reading! This is it! The final chapter! 
> 
> Sorry that this is so short, but this was the final chapter I had planned out for as long as this fic existed. 
> 
> I might write an epilogue if I feel like it, since canonically Christmas is supposed to come up next, but we'll see. 
> 
> As always, I love and appreciate the comments and kudos. If you enjoyed reading, please share to your friends :)
> 
> Links:  
> [Tumblr](https://rain-or-clouds.tumblr.com/)  
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For the record, this whole waking-up-in-the-hospital thing was getting kind of old. At this point, Stiles should get a punch card, just so that his tenth visit is free. At the rate he was going, he was going to be either dead or covered in scars before he graduated high school, which was not something he was particularly interested in. 

This time, it was Derek by his side, not his father. Which was strange in it’s own right, but Stiles was extremely excited to see Derek by his side. It left him with butterflies in his chest and a happy feeling he didn’t realize he could have.

“Hey,” Stiles said, smiling at Derek. He tried to move, but winced as his movements pulled at his stitches and cuts. He had nearly forgotten about Kali kicking him across his chest, adding to the scarring already there. 

“Stiles,” Derek breathed, leaning forward in his chair, moving closer. “You’re awake.”

“I would hope so. I didn’t think I did enough to kill me,” Stiles said, shifting his shoulders. 

“Do not pass out on me again,” Derek said, sliding forward until his knees hit the edge of the hospital bed, his eyes intense. “I am really sick and tired of having to carry your limp body places.”

“Shut up, you love me,” Stiles said. 

He looked around the room, as if his father was hiding out somewhere he couldn’t see. Where was he?

“Your dad is at the station. He said that you had been attacked by a mountain lion, so now he’s there setting up a hunt for a non-existent mountain lion to avenge his son,” Derek said, explaining the questions Stiles was quietly thinking. 

But there was so much left to explain, so much that Stiles was missing. Considering that the last thing he remembered was Duke getting shot with an arrow, there were far too many questions he needed answered. He missed half the battle. 

“What happened? After I passed out?” Stiles asked, frowning. He really didn’t like not remembering things, or in this case, not being awake for things. Besides waking up in confusion, it kind of sucked missing out on the action. 

“Chris, Allison, Lydia, and Scott showed up right as you were drifting off. They helped kill Duke right away. After that, they finished off the other Alphas. It wasn’t that fair of a fight after Duke,” Derek explained. 

That made sense with what Stiles could remember. He remembered seeing Derek kill Duke, and he remembered an arrow. At least things went smoothly after that, even if it did involve murdering those werewolves. They were arguably bad werewolves, so the morality issue was sort of hard to comprehend. They both did and didn’t deserve it. 

“Where’s Peter?” Stiles asked, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. “He was right in the middle of the fight, where did he go?” 

Derek shrugged. “He ran off. Pushed past Allison and Lydia when the betas weren’t looking. If he knows better, he’s halfway to Canada right now,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles’ hand between his own. 

“And how do you feel about that?” Stiles asked, squeezing Derek’s hands. 

“It feels good to know that I still have family out there, somewhere, but I’m glad he’s not here. He’s done too many bad things that I can’t forgive him for, and if he steps foot back into Beacon Hills, I’m going to kill him myself,” Derek said. This sounded honest, like the whole and complete truth. 

There was a level of sadness to this revelation, but there was also a sense of peace. Maybe they had finally scared off Peter enough that he wouldn’t come back. Maybe he’d come roaring back in, as always. There was no knowing with him. 

“I’m glad that there is some sort of peace,” Stiles said, leaning his head back against the bed. 

“I can’t stand seeing you in a hospital bed,” Derek said, leaning down so that his forehead was against their hands. “I can’t look at you laying here and think that I’ve done something right,” he added quietly. 

This was Derek beaten down and broken. Stiles could see the way that his honesty and vulnerability was wholly a result of having both of their lives almost stripped away. Seeing him this way was brutal, but it was better than closed off Derek who would refuse to accept help from anyone. 

“How about we make a promise to each other?” Stiles asked, tugging on Derek’s hands. “I stay out of the hospital, and you try not to mortally wound yourself. Just because you don’t end up in the hospital, doesn’t mean that I can’t unsee you being fatally wounded,” Stiles continued, pulling Derek’s hands up towards his face.

“Fine,” Derek said, leaning forward and kissing Stiles gently. 

“Better be fine,” Stiles muttered, squeezing his hands. 

When the doctors came in, they were still in the same position, Derek holding Stiles’ hand as they talked. It felt weird to be separated for tests and for Derek to be sent away. They had spent so much time together over the past week, had rushed so quickly into loving each other, that the thought of being separated was blasphemous. 

***

Stiles was quickly released from the hospital with some instructions on his cuts and some pain medication. 

Apparently, recovering from a magical exhaustion only took some IV fluids and a night to sleep it off. Good to know. 

John came over from the station to pick him and Derek up, taking the both of them back to the house for the night. He didn’t even blink an eye when Derek followed Stiles up to his bedroom, getting ready for bed as if this was a normal occurrence. 

It wasn’t until the lights were off and they were tucked safely under the covers that Stiles dared ask what was on his mind. “Have we rushed into this?”

It took an unnerving few moments for Derek to answer. The long beats after Stiles’ question only multiplied his anxiety level, but he had to know. He had to make sure that they were doing the right thing, and that they were both ready for this. The worst case scenario would be to have all of this blow up in their faces after working so hard to get it right. 

“Maybe,” Derek said, stroking his fingers along Stiles’ side. “But I don’t think either of us do normal very well.”

“I don’t know if we could,” Stiles said, shrugging. “Do normal.”

He let himself enjoy the way that Derek’s fingers were dragging up and down his side, not teasing but relaxing. It was soothing to hear his breathing, to feel the comfort of his body next to him in bed. If all of this felt so right, then their relationship had to be right too. 

“I just want to make sure that we can last. I don’t want us to fizzle out because everything was based on arbitrary pain and suffering,” Stiles said, ducking his head into Derek’s chest. “I’m still going to have nightmares about being tortured, or losing you, or dying. Those things aren’t going to leave my head. And I’m sure you’ve got a lot more problems than me.” 

Derek reached up to hold Stiles’ head to his chest, thumb stroking the hair back from his face. “Neither of us can change that.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Stiles asked, the nerves rattling around in his chest. “I know I love you. Watching everything go down with the Alphas scared me. I just don’t want to let any sort of fear or worry—” he cut himself off. 

“Let’s just take things one day at a time,” Derek suggested. 

“And let’s promise not to let our past experiences get in the way of building something new.”

Derek hugged Stiles tighter. “I love you. That’s enough for us.”

“I love you too.”

***

The silence that followed in the next week was almost eerie. There were no more threats, no more Alphas watching over your shoulder. It was all school work and being thankful that they had survived through that. Stiles was beyond grateful for his pack and friends, those who had saved him and Derek when the time came. 

It was no surprise that Scott knocked on his door a week later. 

Stiles opened it, almost glad to see him. He hadn’t felt glad to see him since they first fought, or even before that. It was nice to feel that familiar friendship feeling again. No member of the pack could recreate the specific  _ Scott _ feeling of friendship. They each had their own flavor of friendship, and nothing was the same as years together. 

There was still that bubble of hurt and resentment that was underlying their entire relationship. That might go away, but it might not. With the way that Scott had acted in the past, they would never get back to exactly how things were. They could harvest that familiar feeling again and bathe in the remains of their relationship, but nothing could rebuild or repair the strength of their relationship before. 

“Hey,” Stiles said, smiling with his lips tight. He wasn’t quite sure how he should react. 

“I want to try apologizing again. For real this time,” Scott said, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “I screwed up, Stiles. I took our friendship for granted, and I used you only when I needed you. I needed to be a better friend, and set aside my past feelings. I’m sorry.”

This acknowledgement of his wrongdoings and this specific apology was exactly what he wanted all along. He only ever wanted Scott to know that he needed to do better, that he needed to work on their friendship rather than ignore it. 

“I accept your apology,” Stiles said formally, extending his hand for a shake. When Scott put his hand in Stiles, he yanked him forward into a hug. 

“Really?” Scott asked, pulling away. 

“Things won’t ever be exactly the same, but we can be friends again. You just have to accept that I have a whole pack, a family, that is also important to me. It’s not just me and you anymore buddy,” Stiles said, pulling his arms back, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

Scott seemed to think for a moment, as if this was not a part of his original plans. “Okay.”

“And I’m dating Derek. I’m in love with him. Whatever negativity you have towards him cannot come out around me, got it? He’s just as important to me as Allison is to you,” Stiles continued, wanting to make himself clear. 

He wanted things to go back to some sort of normalcy, but this was a big condition. He couldn’t have Scott as his friend when he would smack talk Derek at every chance. Despite the past, and the hardships with Derek, he was so important now. He was beyond important. 

“I promise, dude. Anything to be friends with you again,” Scott said, grinning his sloppy, lopsided grin. 

Stiles smiled back, happy that they had figured themselves out. “Listen, Derek’s inside making breakfast. But we can hang out tomorrow, if you want,” Stiles said, making a face. 

“Sure thing. I’ll text you,” Scott said, backing away from the door. 

“You better!” Stiles called out after him, laughing a little at his own dig. 

He closed the door behind him, walking back into the kitchen where Derek was at the stove, cooking them up omelettes. He looked so cute when he was cooking, and even more so with his sloppy bed head. 

He had been staying at Stiles. Since the big battle, the loft was kind of ruined now. Going back there wasn’t impossible, but it would be hard on either of them. For Derek, he had a pipe shoved through his chest  _ and _ had a massive battle that resulted in pain for his whole pack. No one really wanted to go back there. 

He had been looking at other places, and had listed the loft for sale again. There were a few small houses on the edge of town that backed up to the preserve, which was what Derek wanted. He craved the privacy of the Hale house again, but there were too many memories tied to that specific place. There was no way that he could go back there either. 

“You accepted Scott’s apology?” Derek asked, not looking up from the pan. He was clearly trying to give Stiles space without being too particularly obvious about it. 

“I felt like he deserved it,” Stiles said, shrugging. He leaned on the edge of the counter, watching Derek work. “He recognized what he did wrong, and he seems to want to make things better. We both had a little space, but he came through to save us when the time came. I can’t act like he doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

Derek hummed in acknowledgement, flipping the omelette onto a plate. “Is he joining the pack?”

That was a good question. 

“If he wants to, and if you accept. For now, I think it’s just us deciding that our friendship is too important to throw away. Outside of that, there’s a lot of work,” Stiles said, walking up behind Derek and hugging him, pressing his face into his back. 

“Big of you,” Derek muttered. 

“We all deserve a little forgiveness, don’t you think?” Stiles asked. 

Derek spun, pulling Stiles to his chest. “Of course.” He leaned forward and kissed Stiles, softly, holding him as if he mattered the world. 

“If you didn’t forgive me for getting you arrested, then we wouldn’t be here,” Stiles said between kisses, wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist, holding him close. 

“Twerp,” Derek teased. 

“Sourwolf.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](https://rain-or-clouds.tumblr.com/).


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